Blinded
by Kagetora no Tsume
Summary: Kinslaying is the greatest taboo to elves. Therefore, when Thranduil finds himself sentencing Tauriel for her crime of treason, he is not afraid for her life. The elves do not kill their own. Their punishments, however, are made to last for eternity. Past Kili/Tauriel with a lot of Tauriel and Thranduil re-learning how to get along. (Will try to update once a week on Friday night.)
1. Chapter 1

Kinslaying is the greatest taboo to elves.

Therefore, when Thranduil finds himself sentencing Tauriel for her crime of treason and threatening her king, he is not afraid for her life. But that doesn't stop the little twisting sense of _wrong_ in the pit of his stomach as the crying elleth is lead from his chambers.

The elves do not kill their own.

Their punishments, however, are made to last for eternity.

* * *

Tauriel sits in the healer's quarters, unable to stop her tears. She has never been more frightened or apprehensive in her life. A small group of counsel members are gathered around, a few watching the healer prepare a goblet for Tauriel to drink, but most of their eyes are on her, narrowed with judgment.

The healer is stoic, her face giving away nothing about her feelings of the matter, but Tauriel notices the ferocity with which she crushes up berries - red as blood - to be mixed with the Dorwinion. The wine is to numb the initial pain. The leaves that the healer walks towards now are to put Tauriel to sleep for the duration. The berries are her punishment.

Tauriel tries to take a slow, steady breath but instead her chest heaves with a shuddering gulp for air. She feels cold, but can't tell if that is why she's shaking or if it is from fright.

As the cool metal cup is pressed into her hands she wants to beg for mercy, but she knows that it will not be granted, and so she bites her tongue. Her eyes drift up as the healer explains the drink's effects in a clipped, clinical manner. Tauriel tunes out the list of possible side-effects, the walk-through of what she will feel in the first few minutes after she consumes the drink. She knows what's coming, there is no use to her in sugar-coating it.

She reminds herself bitterly as she looks into the cup of dark red liquid that this is her own fault, that she brought this upon her own head, but it does nothing to ease the nausea that has settled in her stomach, the fear that is consuming her now and causing her hands to tremble. It does not change the fact that there is no turning back for her.

She is possessed by the sudden, wild urge to run, and it takes all her willpower to stay in her seat. Running will be pointless. She will not get far. There are guards at the door and in the hall, as well as an armed soldier on either side of her, waiting to escort her back to her chambers once the healer sends her off. There is only one option for her now, and it is clasped in her trembling hands. The healer finishes her speech and motions for Tauriel to drink from the goblet.

With a shuddering breath, Tauriel looks around her. This will be the last thing she will ever see, and she doesn't want it to be the scowling faces of the council members, judging her hesitance as weakness. Her eyes lock for a second with the ice blue of her King's stare, and he dips his head slightly, expectantly, his gaze boring into her with something almost akin to pity. She is to drink. No more time will be granted.

Taken by a sudden idea, Tauriel digs in her pocket for the runestone that she slipped from Kili's cold hand at the funeral. Her gaze travels over the small, dark rock, the runes etched into its glistening surface, and she lifts the goblet to her lips. Snapping her eyelids closed, so as to retain that final sight, she downs the dark, bitter liquid within the chalice.


	2. Chapter 2

He orders her to be confined to her chambers for three days.

This will allow her a chance to become accustomed to her new circumstances, so that she can familiarize herself with moving about in a space she knows before being released to move about the halls at large. Thranduil sends someone to check on her each day.

The first day he is told that she is lying in her bed, crying, and refusing food. He feels a twinge of concern, but brushes it off. It is the first day without her sight, it is understandable that she will be upset and frightened. It will take some getting used to.

The second day finds her up and about for a short while, navigating her room, groping for walls and furniture as she shuffles about. She is still quite upset, still refusing food, but seems to be doing better. The informant tells him that she is making note of everything's location, that she might find it more easily in the days to come.

The third day she seems to be in about normal spirits, and has apparently managed to bathe and dress herself, braid her hair, and buckle on her knives, even if she has mismatched the colors of her clothing and a half dozen fiery red strands escape the usually pristine braids. She does not speak to the inquirer he sends, but she accepts the bread and fruit that they bring. He allows himself to relax a bit at the news.

Thranduil sends a guard to follow her around on the fourth day, should she choose to leave her room. He does not give a reason, though some in his kingdom assume it is because he would not have a traitor wandering unguarded. Thranduil is willing to let them believe what they want, as long as he knows that there will be someone nearby should Tauriel get lost or get into trouble without her sight to aid her. However, she does not wind up leaving her room, and he extends his order for the next week.

It is almost two weeks before Tauriel leaves her room, and when she does so it is in the middle of the night. After the fact, a part of him is annoyed, because sneaking out in the middle of the night is just like her, but on the other hand, she can no longer see the rising or setting of the sun, so he cannot truly bring himself to blame her for the timing.

The soft sound of footsteps and brushing cloth catches his attention as he is running a comb through his hair, preparing to retire for the night. The moon is high in the night sky, and he wonders who would be coming to see him in his private chambers at this hour. The door is open, and he watches it as the footsteps get closer. He makes no move to stand, but is confused for a moment when a hand comes into view, groping for a second in the open doorway, before it is drawn back and the fingers lightly follow the frame around. Tauriel appears a second later, walking slowly, her hands tracing the wall, and Thranduil feels his eyebrows raise to almost his hairline. She does not seem to take any notice of him, making her way slowly but confidently around the edge of his antichamber, and he rises silently to cross the room. He stops about a foot behind her, following her at a slow pace, curious as to what exactly she thinks she is doing. As she nears the pool of water in his chambers with no signs of slowing her pace, however, he makes his presence known by clearing his throat sharply.

Tauriel must have thought herself alone, for at the sudden noise from right behind her she whirls around to face him, milky eyes wide, and stumbles a few paces away. They both realize her mistake a half second too late, and her foot goes over the edge. She yelps in fear as she falls, and he leaps forward, making a grab for her arm, but he misses and she lands in the pool with a splash. She thrashes about for a second in a panic before he has a chance to drop to his knees, grab a hold of her upper arm, and haul her up onto the stone floor beside him. She is coughing and gasping for breath, and he takes the liberty of gathering her soaked hair and wringing it into the pond as she gets her bearings.

"Are you all right?" he asks her softly once she's caught her breath, and the color drains from her face. If she was surprised before, she is frightened now, and she tries to scramble back from him, but he has a firm hold on her arm and keeps her in place.

"M-my Lord! I'm so sorry! I- I must have taken a wrong turn..." she ducks her head sharply, and Thranduil has to lean back a bit as she nearly collides with him. He is not used to this more clumsy, more mousy Tauriel, and it is a long second before he can reply.

"It is all right, child," he says at last, reaching to unfasten his cloak as she trembles and drips before him, "you are not harmed?"

Tauriel shakes her head as he drapes the cape about her shoulders, tugging it to cover her.

"Where is it that you were going at this hour?"

She flinches, curling in on herself even more.

"I...I was trying to find my way to Legolas' room..." she whispers, her head hanging. "I used to go there all the time as a child and I thought that I remembered the way clearly... I must have missed the hallway..."

He stares down at her as she fidgets, looking at the ground to avoid his gaze even though she can no longer see it. Gently he takes her hands, draws her to her feet.

"Come. Let us get you back to your room."

She looks torn for a second between protesting his help and obeying his command, but he doesn't give her a chance to decide, wrapping an arm about her wet shoulders and guiding her carefully toward the door. She falls into step with him, her muscles tensing slightly whenever he changes direction or pace. They do not talk with one another on the way back, and he only speaks when needed.

"Stairs. Fourteen of them. Careful." "Watch your step, the floor is uneven here." "There is a slope ahead, go slowly." "Do not be afraid, I have you. I will not let you fall."

Her jaw is set firmly, and he does not look at her face as she tries to work through mixed pride and emotions. It takes them only a few minutes longer than usual to reach her room, and she gropes in her pocket for the key, both hands running along the length of it to turn it the right way before reaching a hand to search the door. He reaches out after a second, taking her wrist and gently guiding her fingers to the lock. Her movements from here are fluid, and he has no doubt that she has spent time practicing. Once she is safely in her room, he bids her good night and gets a whispered "good evening, My Lord, thank you for your help" before she closes the door. He hesitates for a second, but then turns in a whirl of silver robes and makes his way back up to his chambers.

He will send someone to fetch his cape in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

If there is one good thing about her situation, Tauriel decides, it is that everyone who has come across her has unquestioningly forgiven her for her misdeeds. It was as if the entire incident had never happened. Any elf she meets is nothing but friendly to her, helping her as if she had been wounded honorably in battle and not been blinded as punishment for turning her back on her people. She can make her way through crowded halls without worrying about knocking into anyone - they all know to step around her. She will occasionally feel a hand on her shoulder or her back or arm, guiding her around obstacles before vanishing again. She merely has to listen as she walks for people nearby to murmur "step up" or "be careful" when the path changes before her.

Her first trip out into the halls in daylight had nearly had her in contrite tears, simply because she had been forgiven so completely, accepted back as if she had never left. She supposes that was the point of her punishment, to allow her to resume her life and friendships even after she'd committed such a reckless sin, but either way she is grateful.

She is still rather worried that the King will change his mind, decide that she is a nuisance and cast her out to suffer the rest of her banishment blinded, so she avoids him as best she can. Of course, that is much harder with her lack of sight, but if she stays away from the areas of the palace that he is known to frequent, she can greatly cut down the possibility of a chance encounter. Every time that she stumbles into a distracted courier or trips over a crate and sends fruit scattering down the hall, she breathes out a sigh of relief when she does not hear his deep voice offering reprimand.

Tauriel tries as best she can to stay out from underfoot, to not cause trouble, but trouble has followed her since she was a child and now that she cannot see, it has gained the advantage over her. She has kept a running count of the things she has knocked over or spilled, the times where she has needed to be rescued from a mis-step that landed her in an unfortunate position, and once, even, how she somehow managed to get so lost in the deeper levels of the palace that she had cried for help for almost half an hour before someone had found her and led her back to her room.

Today she had hoped to find her way to the dungeons.

It had been three months since Kili and the rest of Thorin's band had been brought under their roof and upturned her life, and while she is able to ignore the ache in her heart most days, this was not going to be one of them.

The nice thing about being blind is that - should anyone question her presence there - she can simply claim to be lost. The disadvantage, of course, is that there are many high bridges and walkways that border long falls, and she can see none of them. She has already proven to be remarkably sturdy when it comes to surviving such long falls, but she doesn't like to trust her luck.

As she descends the winding stairs she keeps a hand firmly on the wall, feeling for each step before she takes it. It takes her a while to locate which cell had been Kili's, but once she does she finds the door open and cautiously steps inside, turning about in the small space.

Memory suddenly hits her like a blow, and she stumbles back so that she is leaning against the wall as her knees go out from under her. She can see Kili's smiling face in her mind's eye, peeking out at her from between the bars of the cell. She can practically hear his laugh.

That one word - Amralime - echoes through her thoughts and she curls up into a little ball in agony because _yes_ she knew exactly what that word meant and she had been an idiot to have let him go that day...

She does not know how long she is down there. Her body is stiff with the cold seeping out of the rocks around her by the time she hears footsteps. She curls in tight to herself, tries to slow her breathing, to let whoever it is pass by without noticing.

"Oh, Tauriel! Are you lost?"

She looks up sharply at the gentle, feminine voice, trying to match a face and name to it and failing. She can hear the rustling of cloth as the woman shifts her weight.

"Oh, you poor thing..."

Light footsteps enter the cell and Tauriel feels gentle hands coaxing her to her feet. It is only then that she realizes her cheeks are still damp with tears. Her would-be rescuer has obviously misinterpreted the situation, but Tauriel is willing to let it slide.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"It's quite all right, dear. Let's get you somewhere warm and safe."

Tauriel allows herself to be lead up through the spiraling stairways, using a sleeve to roughly wipe her cheeks dry and hoping that she is being subtle. Kili's runestone is heavy in her pocket, and all she wants to do is cry.

When they finally stop walking, she hears the woman turn to face her. Gentle hands cup her face, and a thumb wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

"It's all right, dear. I've brought you back to your room, but feel free to call if you need me. Okay?"

Tauriel nods, and she feels a light kiss brushed to her forehead.

As the older elleth walks away, Tauriel finally puts a name to the voice: Ennith, one of the healers. Specifically the gentle, beautiful healer who'd taken an orcish arrow out of her shoulder when she was five hundred and thirty-four.

Tauriel suspects that Ennith had seen past her "being lost", but is grateful that she did not bring it up. She can hardly bear to think about Kili, much less talk about him.

With a small sigh, Tauriel reaches into her pocket and caresses the runestone.

Perhaps she will simply go to bed tonight, and hope that her dreams are more pleasant than her waking thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Thranduil had not been aware of exactly how much water was present in his palace until recently, and that is mostly because Tauriel has a bad habit of falling in. It seems like every time he sees the girl, she is either making her way down a hall, soaking wet, or being fished out of some pond or other by a concerned passerby. She never seems to get into much trouble when left to her own devices but for some reason, if there is water pooled in a room or alongside a path, Tauriel will inevitably find herself in it.

For this reason, he is not overly surprised when he hears excess splashing from beneath a low bridge and sees Tauriel clinging to a rock in the river's current when he leans to see what is causing the disturbance.

"I did not know you had such an affinity for swimming, Tauriel," he jokes, crouching at the edge of the bridge and extending a hand toward her. "Reach for me."

She obediently stretches a hand up and he grabs her, pulling her into his arms and setting her soaked figure on the bridge before him. She mumbles her thanks, wringing out her hair and tunic with practiced ease, and he cannot help the fond smile that curls his lips. Thranduil stands, watching her carefully as she runs trembling hands over herself, reaching into a pocket of her tunic before letting out a breath in relief. Tauriel gracefully gets to her feet, hesitating a second as she picks a direction, and Thranduil quickly reaches out to capture her shoulders before she can once again fall in the river when she angles herself a bit too far to the left.

"This way," he murmurs, walking with her until they are on even ground once again. The fleeting thought that perhaps he should look into adding railings to some of the higher bridges in his Kingdom passes his mind and he makes a note of it for later.

Tauriel murmurs her thanks as he lets her go and starts down the hall, confident if not a little hesitant, her fingertips tracing the wall at her side.

"Will you be at dinner tonight?" he calls after her. She hasn't appeared in the dining hall since her punishment, and he is beginning to worry about her closing herself off from others. Tauriel freezes sharply at his question, hesitating for a long second before answering.

"If My Lord wishes me to..."

"Yes. I do."

"Then I will be there."

He watches her until she is out of sight, his eyebrows pinched together. He knows Tauriel well, and can tell that something is bothering her. He debates pursuing whatever is wrong, but decides to let her come to him in her own time. And when she does tell him what worries her, he will fix it.

AN: Since this is kinda short and I have a snow day today, I'll be uploading a second chapter tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

Tauriel pinwheels her arms as her foot nearly slips off the thick branch and she fights for her balance. She lets out a frustrated huff of breath when she is once again steady, continuing along the limb in the practice course as used to be her morning routine before losing her sight. No target shooting for her, of course, but she figures that simply tracing the familiar obstacle course will be an exciting switch-up from aimlessly wandering the halls of the palace.

The training grounds are open-air, surrounded by a large wall that has targets mounted at various heights and locations. The ground is flat and sandy, save for where an enormous, ancient tree grows up from the center. Over the centuries, its branches have been guided as they grew, and the canopy of the training yard is a veritable maze of woven tree limbs. Tauriel is all too happy to leave the ground.

She has nearly fallen more than a dozen times, and has actually fallen four times - the scrapes on her arms and legs proof of her mis-steps - but she'll be damned if she isn't going to finish now. She's been trapped inside for far too long, she needs to stretch her legs and feel the wind in her hair.

Tauriel reaches up until her fingers feel bark and she jumps, grabbing the branch overhead to pull herself up to the next level. She has done this four times already (not counting her first attempt, which wound her up on the ground) and figures that she must be nearing the thick part of the canopy. From there it is another five levels until she is at the top, a good seventy feet in the air. Her stomach twists every time her feet leave the branch, and the terror of falling grips her with each mis-step, but she is determined. And, if she is being honest, she is also just a touch reckless and stubborn. She is going to make it to the top.

There was an easy way to scale the tree, of course. Careful pruning and training had the outlying branches growing in a radial pattern from the center of the tree, forming a natural staircase of sorts around the trunk. If she wanted to she could simply walk to the top, but that would be cheating.

Tauriel reaches and leaps again, her breath catching in her throat as one of her hands slips from the limb, but she is able to grab it again and haul herself up. Standing slowly, she paces the length of the branch. In some ways it is almost easier to ignore the height when she cannot see how far below her the ground truly is. In other ways, being sightless-

"Tauriel!"

She yelps as she stumbles, caught unaware by the sudden angry shout. She hears a sharp intake of breath from somewhere below her as she drops into a crouch, grabbing onto the branch to steady herself. She lets out a soft breath once she is no longer swaying.

"Come down here at _once_!"

Icy panic hits her as she recognizes her King's voice, and she quickly re-traces her steps to the trunk of the tree, following the winding branches down like steps.

She can hear the impatient tap of his foot as she steps onto the sandy ground, and she swallows hard before making her way slowly towards the noise.

"My Lord?"

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" he growls.

She doesn't reply for a long second, trying to find a better excuse than "I was bored", but he continues before she gets the chance to reply.

"You are going to break your fool neck! Get back inside at once. You are not to leave the palace unattended, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, My Lord," she whispers, years of practice the only thing keeping her quick strides from turning into a run as she ducks a quick bow and retreats, cheeks flaming. Once she is inside she feels a burning behind her eyes and squeezes them closed, forcing back the tears.

Clearly, she is not trusted enough to wander on her own outside. Or perhaps he merely doesn't want her even considering taking up as a member of the guard again. Either way, she is all too happy to turn the lock to her door and slide to the ground in misery.

So much for freedom.


	6. Chapter 6

"Good morning, Lady Tauriel."

The metallic clank of armor as the person moves causes her to tense. A guard?

"Good morning," she replies cautiously, stepping out into the hall. Without another word, and half hoping that the man will go away, she turns sharply and heads for the dining hall. The sound of footsteps and shifting metal follow her down the corridor, however, and she bites her bottom lip. There is no mistaking it, he has been sent to escort her.

She feels a chill run through her veins and grits her teeth, trying not to slow her pace. Was Lord Thranduil really so angry with her for yesterday? She does her best to ignore her new shadow, holding her head high, but the imagined stares of every passerby is enough to have her wishing she hadn't left her room at all.

The guard sits across from her in the dining hall, and Tauriel focuses her attention acutely on her food, despite the fact that it is all but tasteless on her tongue.

The first few weeks she had not been followed, but perhaps that was because Lord Thranduil had thought her to be still fumbling around and trying to get used to her sightlessness. Perhaps she had inadvertently proved to him yesterday that she was once again functioning normally and could be considered a threat.

A small shudder courses through her at the term. Her, once a Captain of the Guard and one of the King's most trusted commanders, now considered a threat to the King she'd once protected.

What little appetite she had vanishes with that thought, and Tauriel stands with a sigh, fingertips tracing the table as she tries to retrieve her cutlery and clear her half-eaten breakfast away.

"Here, let me."

There is the scrape of a wooden stool on the stone floor, and she can hear the shifting of cloth and armor as her guard stands, followed by the ring of silverware being placed on a metal plate.

Tauriel murmurs her thanks, not waiting for him to catch up as she leaves the room. She half debates taking a few sharp turns and ditching her guard all together, but decides that she's pushed her luck enough as it is. Besides, how far could she possibly get before she would be found again?

The footsteps behind her are quick on the stone hallway, but slow to a casual walk right behind her.

Holding her chin high, Tauriel turns and heads for the barracks, her guard at her heels like a shadow. This path she knows well enough, and she only stumbles once on the way.

She does not enjoy the feeling of someone tailing her. Centuries of working for the guard has made her sensitive to being followed, and the second set of footsteps puts her on edge, despite knowing who it is that walks behind her. She blames it on not being able to see for certain what is going on around her.

Her fingers slip into the pocket of her tunic - where she keeps the runestone - and traces the familiar grooves in the surface as has become her habit. But today the runes feel like broken promises, and Tauriel burns with the want to grab a bow and go hunt orcs until she is too tired to draw her string. However, that is no longer an option for her.

Tauriel doesn't realize that she has suddenly stopped walking until the guard behind her clears his throat, causing her to jump.

"May I assist you in getting anywhere, My Lady?" he offers. Tauriel bites back a stinging comment about not being lost, and instead murmurs "I was merely wandering", turning her head from him. She knows the elf, he was one of her underlings in the guard. Meldiron, an older guard that was loyal to a fault and brave as a lion, but who could deal with the younger guards with what seemed like endless gentle patience. He had been one of her favorite patrol mates.

"Is there anywhere that you might like to go?" he prompts after a moment. "Perhaps the herb garden?"

Now that he mentions it, that does sound nice. The warmth of the sun, the smell of the earth and green growing things, the feel of grass folding beneath her boots. Having nowhere better to go, Tauriel nods and allows him to step forward and take her arm.

Meldiron is nothing but helpful, opening doors and guiding her through the palace, but Tauriel cannot help but feel the chafe of knowing that he is there because Thranduil does not trust her, and wants her watched. When they get to their destination he carefully releases her arm, letting her wander.

Tauriel moves a few steps away and takes a deep breath. She can pick out some of the nearby herbs from smell - the sweet smell of chamomile, the earthy spice of rosemary, the sharp tang of lemongrass, the tingling burn of eucalyptus - and she sinks to the grass, relaxing.

The sun is warm on her skin, but she can feel its heat being broken up sporadically and figures that the leaves of an overhead tree must be casting a dappled shadow upon her. Tauriel runs her fingers through the damp coolness of the grass, taking another deep breath. She has been inside for far too long.

Footsteps approach and she hears the clank of metal as Meldiron settles himself beside her. Annoyance returning, Tauriel gets to her feet with a small huff. The older guard stands as well and Tauriel turns to wander deeper into the garden, however a hand clasps her wrist before she can walk off.

"Lady Tauriel," he starts, and she turns her head slightly in his direction to show that she is listening. She hears him sigh and move closer.

"I'm not going to bite," he says gently. Tauriel huffs, tugging her tunic with her free hand to straighten out any wrinkles it may have gotten, and narrows a glare in his direction.

She is still trying to think of something witty to say when he takes another step closer and speaks again -quietly, so only she can hear.

"Lord Thranduil may hold suspicions, but know that I have nothing against you. I am not sure what you did to anger him - as he will tell no one what happened at the battle between the two of you - but I am merely following his orders," he says sympathetically. "I do not like having to watch you, Captain, but My King has spoken, and I must obey."

Tauriel lets out a sigh, her anger escaping on the breath.

"I know. And I apologize if I have been sharp with you," she says. He snorts at that, and she feels a smile tug at her lips.

"Now, may we perhaps relax here a while, Captain?" he asks, and she can hear the dry humor in his tone when he continues, "You walk rather quickly for someone who cannot see where she is going."

Tauriel chuckles, settling herself back in the grass.

"Very well, you great lazy thing. I have half a mind to make you all run drills. The guard has clearly gotten lax in my absence."

"My Lady, _never_." He sounds almost insulted, and she laughs aloud, tipping her head back to let the sun fall upon her face. Meldiron settles himself beside her, starting up trivial conversation, and Tauriel is surprised to find that she does not mind the company.

They remain there until lunch, leaving briefly to find food, then return and stay until nightfall. Once the sun has set Meldiron walks her back to her room, an arm looped casually through hers as they talk and laugh together.

"I will not be your guard tomorrow," he tells her at the door, "Lord Thranduil chose a few of us and has us on rotating duty. I will see you again some point next week."

"Do you know who is assigned for tomorrow?"

"Faelwen, I believe."

Tauriel nods. Another favored companion of hers from the guard.

"Will that be all, My lady?"

"Yes. Go and rest. I will cause no more trouble tonight," Tauriel promised with a smile.

"Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight, _mellon_."


	7. Chapter 7

Tauriel figures that Lord Thranduil must have gone through a list of his soldiers and picked out the ones that were her closest friends in the guard to be her escorts about the palace. In the space of the week, every guard that has been assigned to her has been someone that she cares deeply about. Meldiron, Faelwen, Gilgalad, Hannasiel... all of them very dear to her, trusted companions. Even Alassé, a young elleth who sits with her now as she listens to the sound of the soldiers training, was someone that Tauriel had always been friendly with before...

Well, before.

Tauriel suspects that he has some reason behind his choices. Perhaps placing her friends as her guards is his way of preventing her from trying to slip away from them. If this is the case, it has worked, she muses, mildly irritated that her King knows her well enough to guess her actions. But then, hasn't he always? In fact, the only time she has ever truly taken him by surprise is when she drew her bow on him, and if she is being honest, she had rather surprised herself with the action as well.

Finding that trail of thoughts unpleasant, Tauriel reaches into her pocket and traces her fingers over Kili's runestone. She can feel the carvings, and can almost picture the strange dwarvish writing in her mind. She lets out a soft sigh, her heart clenching a bit as she recalls Kili's rough translation - "return to me" - for all the good it might have done him.

There is a particularly sharp clack from the training grounds, and Tauriel feels something land in the loose dirt at her feet, kicking dust up over her boots.

"Heads up!" one of the soldiers calls a bit too late, and Tauriel smirks, leaning to feel for whatever landed by her. Her fingers brush what feels like a stick, and she carefully drags it closer to herself. It is wooden, about three inches wide and the length of her arm, ending in a jagged end. One of the practice staves must have snapped. Alassé calls out a lecture about being careful after the soldiers and Tauriel can practically hear the elleth rolling her eyes.

"Go easy on the equipment," she orders good-naturedly once Alassé has finished her rant, and someone calls a sheepish "Sorry, Captain," back to her.

Tauriel plays with the staff fragment, twirling it like one of her knives as her mind wanders. That is another curious thing...Lord Thranduil has not removed her rank. She is still Captain, regardless of whether or not she can perform her normal duties. There is, of course, someone else acting Captain, but she has retained her title and standing. Why he would allow this to a traitor is beyond her, but perhaps it is simply an oversight on her king's behalf that allows her to keep her rank, and so she does not question it too much.

Tauriel brings the point of the broken staff to the ground, feeling the drag of the loose dust as she swirls it in absent patterns. An idea strikes her after a moment, and she uses her foot to smooth over the ground where she had been playing. Tauriel scratches her stick for a moment in the sand, then turns in the direction that Alassé's voice last came from. Taking the runestone from her pocket, she holds it up for the elleth to see.

"How close am I?"

There is a pause as Alassé leans close and studies the ground at Tauriel's feet.

"Erm. Well. The first one's pretty close. The second and third kind of wound up overlapping. The rest look about right."

Tauriel makes a humming noise in the back of her throat, sliding the rune back into a pocket and once again scuffing over her writing in the sand.

"Heads up!"

Tauriel feels the whistle of air as something flies past her ear, and she flinches away on instinct.

"You all right, Captain?"

"Okay, now I _know_ you're aiming for me," she calls with a smirk, getting to her feet.

"S-sorry, Captain..."

The embarrassed voice - the same one from earlier - comes from her left and Tauriel makes her way over to the soldier. She can hear the shift of movement as the other guards step from her path, and she stops once she believes that she is near the one that spoke.

"Was that your attempt to challenge me?" she asks with a smile, her heart thrilling a bit because _this_ is what she's missed, _this_ is what she craves...

"And if I am?" the good-natured reply gets fractionally louder as the speaker steps to stand in front of her and she smiles.

"Then it would be my pick of style for the match. Hand to hand."

Now there is a pause, the soft chuckles from the others become quiet.

"Captain...that would not be a fair fight," the soldier says slowly, his voice gentle. Trying to back out and save her the embarrassment.

"Do not worry," Tauriel smiles, reaching a hand out until her fingertips brush his tunic and then tracing it up to clasp his shoulder. "I will go easy on you."

It is not the answer that any of them are expecting, which makes their surprised gasps all the more pleasing when she sweeps the soldier's feet out from beneath him and pins him to the ground. He lets out a rather undignified squawk, and she leans back so that his flailing arms cannot reach her, feeling the movement of air as he swipes for her shoulder and misses.

He manages to get a grasp on her hips and throws her, but she does not let him go. He hits the ground beside her with a soft grunt, the air knocked from his lungs and his body half-sprawled across hers. Tauriel twists until his weight is no longer pinning her, but she does not loosen her grip.

She turns and starts to scramble to her feet but the soldier grabs her by the elbow and pulls her back to the ground at his side. He tries to roll to grab her in a bear hug, but she feels the muscles in his shoulder stretch and turn beneath her fingers and rolls out of the way.

She has kept her hand firmly on his shoulder - this way she knows where he is, can feel where he is going to be. She does not need to see him.

She lunges in and he catches her shoulder with his free hand, trying to toss her aside again, but Tauriel is ready. She pulls back, using the flat of her palm in an upward jab to break his hold on her and shifting the angle of her body before he can try the same move to remove her grip from him.

The soldier twists, trying to break her hold, but Tauriel knows this trick and allows the force of his movement to pull her smaller form over top of his. Tauriel wastes no time in wrenching his arms back and placing the flat of her calf against his back to pin him beneath her. The soldier struggles for another moment in vain, and Tauriel does her best not to smile.

"Do you yield?" she asks, leaning over his shoulder.

"Yes, yes, I yield!"

Tauriel lets him go and gets to her feet, dusting her hands over her tunic to remove the dirt as the other guards call encouragement to her and cheer. She reaches a hand in the direction that the young soldier was, and he grabs hold a second later. Tauriel hefts him to his feet but does not let go of his hand, not yet. She draws a step closer.

"Thank you, for sparring with me," she says softly, allowing the noise of the crowd to keep her words private. "I have sorely missed it."

"My pleasure, Captain," he replies, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he leans close. "Though perhaps next time you might consider actually going easy on me."


	8. Chapter 8

"Why was Tauriel out on the practice field?"

"She was merely seeking company, My Lord," Meludir answers, fidgeting slightly under his king's icy stare. "None of us intended for her to do more than sit nearby..."

Thranduil huffs a breath, narrowing his eyes at the usually bubbly young elf that he has called before him. He had been one of Tauriel's underlings, part of her normal patrol group. The brunette has his head dipped, a worried crease lining his brow as he picks his next words.

"Should...should we have moved to stop her, My Lord?"

Thranduil pauses for a moment, considering.

"No," he says at length, turning to pace the room. He is well aware of what Tauriel is like. The minute he forbids her something, she will decide that she has to have it - problem child that she is. "It would be less trouble to keep silent on the matter. I merely ask that you and the other guards don't let her do anything too dangerous. Keep her away from the weapons."

The characteristic smile is back in place when he turns to face Meludir, and the soldier bows.

"Of course, My Lord."

"You are dismissed."

He watches as the younger elf leaves, then sinks back into his throne.

He had about flown into a panic earlier when he'd caught wind of a rumor that Tauriel was sparring with the soldiers, and had immediately sent Galion to investigate. He had been relieved to find out that it was nothing more than a little hand-to-hand scuffle for fun - and he would admit that he felt a tiny glow of pride when Galion mentioned that Tauriel won - but he would have to keep a closer eye on her. This was the second time in the space of a week that he'd discovered her doing something dangerous and been sure that she'd get her fool self killed before he could intervene. Seeing her nearly fall from the tree had just about stopped his heart in his chest.

"Always a troublemaker," he murmurs, shaking his head.

He knows that Tauriel is loathe to stay still for too long - has been that way since she was a child - but coupling that with her blindness, he fears, will only lead to trouble. He only hopes that he can come up with a suitable diversion before she gets herself killed.

With a sigh, Thranduil stands and makes his way over to his desk, where the letter from his son rests, awaiting a reply. He has not yet told Legolas of Tauriel's fate, nor has his son asked after her, and he would be lying if he says that he is looking forward to that conversation. Deciding to once again avoid the topic, he drafts up an inane letter about the Greenwood and daily goings-on that Legolas is missing, then folds it and sets it aside to be delivered to Rivendell.

He crosses back to his throne, fully intending to pour himself a goblet of Dorwinion and relax for a while, however he only makes it as far as uncorking the bottle before he is interrupted by a knock on the door of his throne room.

"Visitors, My Lord. From Erebor."

Thranduil grits his teeth, using every last ounce of his willpower to resist letting out a string of curses.

This is JUST what he needed.

* * *

In the end, he is on his best behavior. He greets the dwarves pleasantly, invites them in, offers them food and drink which they quickly devour, and then offers to have Feren show them to the guest quarters. It is bad luck, he thinks, that a particular red-head enters the main hall as the dwarves are walking by and one of them recognizes her from across the room.

"Lady Tauriel!"

Thranduil glances over his shoulder as a dwarf with a ridiculous hat runs over to the red-haired maiden and skids to a stop before her, smiling like a fool.

"Do you remember me?"

Tauriel's brows pinch, her head tilting down slightly in confusion as the voice comes from an unfamiliar height.

"I...I am afraid that I cannot place your voice..."

"My voice?" the dwarf tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in confusion, "Is that some kind of elf thing? Surely you remember me, I'm the one who got you the athelas. I would think you'd at least remember the hat."

"Hat?"

The dwarf opens his mouth to reply, but it is at that moment that he notices her eyes.

"Y- you can't see?"

Tauriel bites her bottom lip, shaking her head. The dwarf gawks for a long moment, then leans closer, squinting his eyes as he studies her.

"Your eyes used to be green, didn't they? I remember Kili going on about it."

Thranduil does not miss the way she flinches at the name of her dead dwarf, nor the way her hand skims up to her pocket.

"Are your eyes white cause you can't see? Did something happen after the battle to-"

"Bofur! Quit pestering the poor thing with your endless questions, I need a word with her."

The dwarf with the strange hat backs away, murmuring a quiet apology as an elderly, white-bearded dwarf approaches Tauriel and Thranduil lets out a breath in relief on her behalf.

"You'll have to forgive him, he tends to ramble on when he's excited... I hope he hasn't offended you," the older dwarf says softly, offering a bowed head that she cannot see in greeting.

"It is quite all right. I would be curious as well if I were in his place," Tauriel says with a gentle smile, but she still looks just as confused as she did a second ago.

"I am Balin of Erebor, my companion here is Bofur. If I'm recognizing you correctly, you are Lady Tauriel?" the dwarf asks.

"I am."

"I have gifts for you from the mountain. Some of Kili's share of the treasure, as it were. Now before you start," the dwarf says hurriedly as Tauriel opens her mouth to argue, "there's more than enough treasure in that mountain for all, and we of the company agreed that Kili would have wanted you to have some of his share, especially after all you'd done for him."

The dwarf pauses, his tone becoming gentler as he smiles up at the elf. "He loved you."

"As I love him," she whispers, and the dwarf nods.

"Aye. Now I know elves aren't as fond of gold as we dwarves are, but I found a few pretty things for you in that treasure hoard. Here," he takes her hand gently in his, fishing in the worn bag at his side for a moment before withdrawing an emerald charm. He places it in her palm, cupping her hand around it, and catches her other hand, bringing her fingertips to trace the jewel. "This one's an emerald, oval cut. You can tell at the edge," he moves her touch to trace the part of the stone he is talking about, "it's got a bit of a corner on it while the rest of the stone is round. Now this is set in silver, kind of wound around the outside, here, so that light can reflect off the center of the stone. On the back-" here he pauses to turn the stone over in her hand and bring her fingers to the clasp, "it's got an attachment for you to pin a cloak with it. Feel how it dips in here? That's what holds the pin. You twist it like this - and be careful, it's sharp - to open it. Closing is just as simple. Lovely little decoration. Subtle, but elegant. Now this," the dwarf again digs in his pouch, producing another trinket, "this one here is a ruby."

Thranduil watches with a barely-concealed smile as the dwarf patiently describes each item in stunning detail, guiding Tauriel's touch over it as he does. Her lips are parted slightly in wonder, picturing the jewels in her head from their description, and the other dwarves watch with small smiles. When all is said and done, Tauriel finds herself the owner of a decently-sized bag of jewels and the recipient of many well-wishes from Erebor.

Thranduil watches from afar until the dwarves follow after Feren and Tauriel heads in the opposite direction, her new gifts held tight against her chest and her eyes glistening with more than the light.

Only then does he allow himself a rather undignified snort as he turns to head for his throne room.

A present from the dwarves on Prince Kili's behalf.

Will this day get any stranger?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** Hi, all! Just to address a lot of the questions from the reviews: I do answer just about everything that has been asked in the next few chapters, so bear with me! A few (especially those concerning Legolas) are a bit further in. Still posting an update once a week on Friday.

Thank you all so much for reading, and especially for leaving reviews! It means a lot to me to get feedback!

* * *

Tauriel swings her feet absently as Meldirion reads to her, head tilted back slightly as she listens to his strong, deep voice glide over the words. It had been his rather genius idea to poke around the library, and she is grateful that he had not been put off by her laughter when he first suggested it.

Tauriel has not given much time to reading since she joined the guard, but now it is part of her weekly routine, and Meldirion is happy to read aloud to her for a few hours, or until his voice gives out. (It is usually the latter.)

The book they are currently working their way through is an old human tale, about a man and his son who get lost at sea and are rescued by eagles. The style is a bit amateur, however the story itself is enthralling. They have both been ignoring the growls of their stomachs for the better part of an hour, agreeing that they will go eat after "one more chapter."

The hiss of friction followed by the dry crinkle of old paper tells her that Meldirion has turned the page.

"...only so many ways to travel to the land in the western ocean. Alas, our wings are not strong enough to carry you the distance, but perhaps-"

Meldirion is interrupted by his stomach protesting loudly, and Tauriel's follows suit as if agreeing. She scrunches up her face, glancing in the direction that Meldirion's voice last came from.

"Perhaps we should finish reading on the way there?" Tauriel says with a shrug.

"Or we could wait until after dinner," he suggests, but the lack of conviction in his voice is telling. He is just as reluctant to leave the book as she.

"They will not mind if we take the book, as long as we take care of it," she argues, getting to her feet and stretching. She hears him stand beside her.

"And how am I to guide you if I am reading?" he asks, and Tauriel pauses a moment, considering.

"Here, place your hand on my shoulder. I will guide _you_ ," she says with a grin, and the older elf snorts in amusement. He does as she asks, however, and Tauriel turns to lead the way down the hall, her arms outstretched to feel for obstacles as Meldirion follows in her footsteps with his fingertips curled around her shoulder, continuing the chapter.

She feels her way through the familiar darkness, her mind picturing the walls where her fingertips brush stone, a path where her feet shuffle and crunch beneath her, doorways where air currents change and sound echoes. Meldirion is behind her, the tale from the book trying to drag her into a vivid realm all its own while she makes her way through her blank world.

Perhaps that is the part of reading that calls her to it, the use of words to build a scene. She only needs to hear in order to see through the character's eyes, and it is comforting to know that she is not always as blind as she thinks she is.

The ground beneath her feet changes texture, and the walls curl away from Tauriel's fingers. A walkway. The river gurgles about a level below her, the sound echoing up through the cavern in a hiss of white noise and Tauriel grits her teeth when she takes her first step onto the open bridge.

The first few paces are without incident, and Meldirion's voice doesn't so much as waver, so Tauriel takes the next few steps with confidence.

A strangled yelp catches in her throat as her next step lands on air and her body jerks forward in a headlong plunge, but Meldirion's voice stops just as sharply and something strong and warm locks around her waist before she can fall, hauling her back onto even ground. She clings to him for a moment, until her heartbeat slows and the adrenaline spike has worked its way through her legs in tremors. Meldirion's breath is quick against the back of her neck, his heart pounding as loud as hers.

"You and water," he mutters once they have both caught their breath, and she can practically _hear_ him shaking his head.

"Thought we'd take a shortcut," she replies, smiling over a shoulder at him innocently. The older elf chuckles, navigating her safely to the far end of the walkway before daring to release her, and Tauriel once again takes the lead as he clears his throat.

They finish the chapter as Tauriel steps through the entryway of the dining hall, and Meldirion closes the book with a dull thump to offer her an arm.

"I suppose the final chapters will have to wait until after dinner," he says, and she can feel him shrug.

"I certainly hope that you don't have morning patrol tomorrow," Tauriel says with a grin, nudging him, "because we are not sleeping until we finish the book."

"You are cruel, Captain, to deprive a man of his sleep," he says with mock hurt, and Tauriel cannot hold back a laugh.

"You will see 'cruel' if I have to go to bed on a suspenseful ending and wait until you next are assigned to guard me to hear the rest."

"Well, when you put it that way," he admits, a smile in his voice.

The smells of warm bread and stewed vegetables waft over to the pair of them and Tauriel takes a deep breath, her mouth watering.

"Come," she says, giving a small tug to Meldirion's arm, "I am generously offering you ten minutes to consume as much food as you can, and then I expect you to continue."

The older elf laughs aloud, and Tauriel squeaks in protest when his hand lands atop her head to ruffle her hair.

"Whatever you command of me, Captain, it shall be done."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** The next chapter is kind of short, and really needed to be separate from this one, so I'm going to post it later today as a bonus.

* * *

"It is only for a short while. I wish to clear my head," Tauriel lies sweetly, offering a small shrug as she walks with Alassé through the trees. She can hear the guard fidgeting beside her, debating, but stronger than that she can smell the forest air, feel the sunlight on her skin, hear the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze that tugs at the loose strands of her hair, and she _wants_ it.

She hadn't dared to go outside after her King had last caught her in the practice yard, staying indoors instead, flitting between her room and the halls of the palace. But she had begun to feel it - that twitchy, cramped feeling of being stuck inside for far too long, the need to run and be somewhere wide open... The need to be able to take more than fifteen steps in any direction before running into a wall.

Her plan had been simple.

Her guard today, Alassé, is the only one willing to bend Thranduil's rules as she once had, being only a few centuries older than Tauriel and still a touch rebellious, so Tauriel had decided to try her luck. She asked to walk in the forest, and after a few moments of gentle refusals, Alassé had relented.

She had been allowed a short walk outdoors, accompanied by her guard, and now Tauriel puts the last bit into play. She asks for a moment to herself. Alassé will be nearby, and she accompanied her out here, so technically they are only bending Thranduil's orders and not outright breaking them. And for a brief while, Tauriel will be free.

Her guard lets out a long-suffering sigh, her steps slowing to a stop as she releases Tauriel's arm from her lead.

"Promise me you will not go far?" Alassé asks, her voice hesitant, and Tauriel nods, flashing her what she hopes is a sweet smile. Another sigh. "Very well. I will return shortly."

The hand leaves her arm and Tauriel finds herself standing on her own in the forest as Alassé backtracks.

The rustling of leaves rolls overhead with the wind and she lets out a breath that shudders with anticipation. She is so close she can taste it. At last, freedom.

Alassé's footsteps recede into the background, and Tauriel forces herself to move slowly, leisurely, though she wants nothing more than to run.

The forest sings to her as she wanders, hands stretched out before her to feel her path as she places her feet carefully. Her bow is slung comfortably across her shoulders, a full quiver at her side and her daggers strapped across her back. Tauriel feels almost like a Captain again.

She picks up speed as she becomes more confident - she can hear the trees calling to her, her feet sing as they touch the ground, the scent of the forest swirls around her and makes her giddy with joy. It does not take long until she can tell where the trees are by the hiss of wind through their leaves, and the ground has thus far been flat before her, so she runs. Her long hair is tugged back in the breeze, smaller branches catching at her red locks and clothing, but she ignores this, racing deeper into the forest.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, the exhilaration thrumming in her pulse, and Tauriel feels herself smile - truly smile - for the first time in what feels like ages.

The heat of the sun blazes on her face as the sounds from the trees pull back from her and she knows she's found a clearing. Slowing to a walk, Tauriel spins in a circle, arms out and head tilted back with her eyes closed to protect them from the sun - the healers had warned her that its brightness could still hurt her whether or not she could see it.

Freedom feels wonderful.

She spins until she can barely stand straight, feeling like an elfling again, and then lets her momentum carry her to the ground in a tangle of her hair and long grass.

Laughing quietly, Tauriel plucks the leaves from her hair, but hesitates when she feels their shape. The leaf she holds is a willow leaf, not an oak. There are no willows along the path that she knows. The only willow trees are down by the water, but she cannot hear the river.

Eyebrows pinching, she feels for nearby trees, and finds that she recognizes none of them. The texture of the bark is unfamiliar, as are the shapes of the leaves, and the scent is something she has not found in her forest before. She could not have wandered that far in so little time, could she?

She hesitates, turning around with outstretched arms, and worry starts to coil unpleasantly in her stomach as she comes to one horrible realization.

She is lost.


	11. Chapter 11

Panic is the first emotion that registers. Her breathing is loud in her own ears as she stumbles back out into the clearing and tries to find something - _anything_ \- that is familiar. Nothing comes to her, however, and she feels her heart pound faster with each passing second.

She doesn't know where she is. Even if she could remember her steps to retrace them, her earlier spinning has lost the direction. She is rather far from where she started, and does not dare call for help in fear of what ilk lurks in the forest awaiting easy prey.

And even if she _were_ found...

Tauriel stops up short, her breath catching as the consequences of her actions once again register a moment too late to save her from them.

If she is found, she will be found far out of the palace grounds, blatantly disobeying her King's orders once again. Despite his previous forgiveness, she is surely out of chances by now.

Lord Thranduil will banish her for sure.

She sinks to her knees, feeling sick.

Oh, what has she done?

She can't be on her own. She can barely manage to make her way around the palace without getting herself into trouble, how could she possibly survive in the forest with all its dangers? When the spiders flock out in search of prey at sunset...

Tauriel shudders, feeling cold.

She would not survive the night.

Her hands are trembling to the point of being useless and she clenches them together in her lap, trying to _focus_ because she isn't with a guard and she has to take care of herself-

It strikes her then that Alassé will also be in trouble, for allowing Tauriel to slip her watch, and guilt rolls heavily in her stomach alongside the fright and panic.

A crash from the branches overhead sends Tauriel darting for cover, her heart racing, until the screech of a bird sounds from the source of the noise and she lets herself sink to her knees once more, trembling. She will need cover. There are still orcs that roam these woods in the daylight, and she is helpless as she is.

Making sure her bow is secure on her back, Tauriel feels her way over to a tree and climbs the branches as quickly as her sightlessness will allow, finding a sturdy crook to settle her weight in.

She forces a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Panicking will do her no good, and if she is to be banished she will have to figure out how to survive on her own, at least until she can find someone to take her in and shelter her.

"I'm such a fool," she mutters to herself, running a trembling hand through her hair to smooth it back from her face as she blinks warm tears over her cheeks. "I'm such a fool..."


	12. Chapter 12

Lord Thranduil is taking a stroll in his private gardens when he hears the snap of a tree branch from the canopy a few yards off the path and freezes. Although he doubts that the spiders have made it this far into his kingdom, it always pays to be cautious. Drawing his sword, he looks around, and is surprised when an elvish arrow comes flying from above to stick into the path a few paces behind him.

Peering up into the trees, he sees a flash of red among the green and a smirk tugs at his lips despite his best efforts to suppress it. Of course.

"I would have thought that you learned your lesson the last time you drew a bow on me, Tauriel," he calls dryly, and is rewarded with a horrified gasp of "My Lord!" from above.

There is a flurry of movement from the branches, accompanied by more twigs snapping, and he quickens his pace to the base of the tree that she has somehow managed to climb. She appears a few seconds later, falling more than climbing down, and he quickly reaches to catch her by the waist and lift her the remaining few feet to the ground.

His mouth is open and he is midway through taking a breath to lecture Tauriel when he catches a good look at her. She is shaking, her cheeks damp with what he can only assume are tears, and it is enough to make him pause in his fury. She should not have been out here alone, but she is clearly quite upset and he cannot bring himself to yell at her just yet.

Her bow has fallen from her grip on the way down and now rests in the grass at their feet, and her quiver is skewed from the movement. She has leaves tangled in her hair, and it is all he can do to resist reaching out to pluck them free. Tauriel turns to face him (more or less) as soon as she is steady on her feet and bows, trembling in fright.

"My Lord, I am so sorry! I heard movement below and thought it might be an orc, and when I heard you draw your sword, I..." she flinches a bit, "I thought it better to shoot first and ask questions later so as not to give away my position."

He stares at her, his emotions somewhere between shock, annoyance, and amusement. Taking his silence as understanding, she takes a small breath and pushes on, trying to change topic.

"If I may ask, My Lord...what are you doing so far out in the woods without a guard?"

Her question is asked with complete innocence and sincerity, concern in her tone, and he is about to reprimand her for wandering alone herself when he notices her wording and is left speechless for a long moment.

"Tauriel..." he begins at last, "Where exactly do you believe yourself to be?"

He sees the embarrassed flush creeping up her cheeks before she can duck her head low enough to hide it from him. Her hands are trembling again.

"S-somewhere in the woods, My Lord. Perhaps a few stone's throws from the gates?"

His eyebrow quirks and he fixes her with a disapproving look despite the fact that she cannot see it.

"You are in the King's private garden, Tauriel."

She winces, ducking her head lower. He finds himself automatically reaching to her and has to stop his hands mid-air, a few inches from her shoulders. He is caught somewhere between wanting to comfort her and wanting to wring her fool neck for trying to sneak out.

"What exactly _were_ you doing out here?" he asks, his voice cold.

"M-my apologies, My Lord, it will not happen again, I promise..." she says in lieu of an answer.

"No," he replies in a cool tone that betrays nothing of his worry, "it will not. Where is your guard?"

Another flinch. He lets out a slow breath, the sound coming out as more of a growl.

"At least Alassé had the sense not to let you outside the gate. Do not test my patience, Tauriel, I _will_ have you locked in your room if you attempt to leave the palace without a guard again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, My Lord."

It is barely a whisper.

With a long-suffering sigh, Thranduil picks up her bow and wraps her hand around it, watching as she clutches it tight against her chest, blinking her glassy, sightless eyes as she fights tears. He then places an arm about her shoulders, noticing her start in surprise, and begins to lead her along the path he had been walking down. She keeps pace with him without question, her head still bowed. As they walk together through the garden, he watches her fidget nervously, mumbling apologies whenever she mis-steps or brushes up against him. She's been so jumpy around him these past months...

A thought creeps into his mind then, and his eyebrows pinch together unhappily as he considers it.

"Tauriel," he asks after a few minutes.

"Yes, My Lord?"

"...do you fear me?"

She stops up short, her eyes wide, and he pauses as well, watching her reactions closely.

Her mouth opens and she fights for a moment to find words, but winds up ducking her head again.

"I...do not know what you ask..."

"You avoid me. You duck away when I am near, and try to flee as soon as you are allowed. Why?"

"I-I'm sorry, My Lord..." she starts, taking a pace back, but he catches her chin in his hand and tilts her face up to look at him before she can get far.

"Do not hide," he commands, "answer me. Are you frightened of me?"

She swallows and blinks, and tears are brimming in her pale eyes.

"Yes, My Lord," she whispers at last. He winces at the reply, and the memory of speaking the words at her sentencing tastes like bile on his tongue.

"I did not wish to do this to you, child," he says softly, at length, his thumb gently stroking tears from her cheek.

Tauriel shakes her head sharply.

"No, My Lord, this is no more than I deserved. I knew the risk when I...when I stood against you."

"Then why is it that you fear me?"

Tauriel's eyes slip closed for a long second, pooling liquid along her bottom lashes, and he sees her fists clench around her tunic.

"You will throw me out," she whispers brokenly, gazing up at him with sightless eyes, and suddenly it all makes sense. Foolish little thing.

He does reach out to her now, plucking leaves from her hair before cradling her face in his hands.

"You have already paid for your wrongs, child," he says softly as she closes her eyes, sending twin tears racing over her cheeks. "I am not angry with you, nor will I send you away. I promise."

She nods slightly, and when a sob wracks her small frame he can no longer help himself.

He hushes her as she begins to cry, drawing her against his chest and holding her close.

"Tauriel," he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down her back, "I would not throw you out. Why did you think I would?"

"Y-you hate me," she sobs, and he hugs her tighter.

"Oh, you foolish child... I was angry with you for a time, yes, but do not think that I hate you, dear one. Far from it."

"You have me guarded-" she starts, and he brushes his hand gently through her hair to silence her, catching the red locks and pulling them back from where they stick to her damp cheeks.

"I only send guards with you because I fear for your safety. It would devastate me should anything befall you, and you seem to be doing your best to get yourself killed when I am not looking," he says, leaning back a bit and using the trailing corner of his sleeve to dry her tears before hugging her close again. "I was concerned, that is all. I hold no ill will towards you."

Her hands are fisted tightly in his robes, her face buried in his collar, and he feels her nod.

"I was so worried that-" Her voice catches in another sob and he cuts her off.

"I know. But I would not throw you out. No matter how you insist on testing my patience."

She makes a small sound in the back of her throat at that, and he dares to hope that it may have been a laugh.

He is not sure how much time they spend standing there, but it is a long while before her tears run out. He doesn't loosen his grip, feeling the need to make up for weeks of her shying away from him by keeping her close while he has the chance. Her head is resting against his shoulder, and he can feel her soft, even breaths warming his neck. She is playing with the fabric of his robe absently.

"I truly am sorry," she whispers at length.

"I know," he murmurs as he runs a hand over her head and down through her hair. "And I have long since forgiven you."

He can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she settles her head more comfortably into the crook of his neck. He smiles as well, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I am quite serious about locking you in your room if you sneak off, however," he adds, a touch of sternness in his voice, "I will not have you getting lost in the forest. You are to take someone with you if you wish to leave the palace. Do you understand?"

She nods again, and he lets out a small sigh, resting his head against hers.

"You and Legolas are going to be the death of me."

She lets out a choking laugh at that, and he smiles.

* * *

It is only another ten minutes before someone comes looking for the sightless captain. He can hear a voice from a distance, the crackle of a body pushing through branches coming closer with the shouts, but ignores it until the person has nearly caught up with them.

"Tauriel? Tauriel!"

Thranduil looks up as the frantic voice gets near, taking a pace back to put himself at a respectable distance from the elleth in question just as a young guard comes running into view. The soldier skids to a stop when she sees him and ducks into a deep bow, stammering apologies.

"Rise," he interrupts, recognizing her as the guard that he assigned Tauriel that morning. Tauriel has also recognized the guard by her voice, and he sees her flush with embarrassment. The guard is visibly relieved once her eyes fall on Tauriel, but it is only a second before her eyes flick to him in concern.

"It is all right, Alassé, Tauriel was safe with me. You will not have to worry about her running off on her own again. Isn't that right, Tauriel?" he asks pointedly, and Tauriel dips her head, blushing.

"Yes, My Lord."

He fights a smirk from his face and turns back to the guard.

"Please escort Lady Tauriel back to her room, she's had a rather trying day and could use some rest."

Alassé steps forward and entwines her arm with Tauriel's, and the two young women bow briefly to him before leaving, Alassé hissing a lecture to Tauriel the whole way for tricking her. Thranduil watches until they are out of sight and then returns to his evening stroll, a plan forming in his mind.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Another double update, because the chapters are short.

* * *

Tauriel listens to Alassé's lecture and does her best not to smile.

She feels like a weight has been lifted from her, and is near giddy with the ease of tension. Alassé does not appreciate this, Tauriel can tell by the sharp tone of the elleth's voice, but she can't bring herself to care. Thranduil does care about her, and she has never been so happy to have been wrong in her entire life.

She still feels quite foolish for getting herself into such trouble to find that out, of course, but the end has by far justified the means. And the fact that Thranduil was willing to brush it off is an added bonus. Alassé, on the other hand, is not so keen to drop the issue, and Tauriel draws the elleth to a halt with a smile as she continues to rant.

"And if that wasn't enough, I had to ask-...you're not even listening to me, are you?"

She pulls Alassé into a hug before the elleth can continue.

"I am sorry that I worried you. I promise, I will not do so again."

Alassé remains stiff and unsure for a second longer before relaxing into Tauriel's hold with an exasperated sigh.

"You are lucky that I like you."

Tauriel steps back and allows Alassé a second to smooth her tunic and hair. Trying to keep the wicked smile from her face, Tauriel leans close.

"Race you to the-"

Alassé's hand claps firmly over her mouth before she can finish her statement.

"Don't even think about it. You're going straight to your room."

"Yes, mother," Tauriel sighs, the words muffled through Alassé's delicate fingers, and the elleth takes the lead with a firm grasp on Tauriel's arm.

Being marched back to her quarters like a child is not something that Tauriel is unused to, per se - she was a rather troublemaking youth. However, she has to force a straight face and bite her tongue to choke back giggles at the thought of how they must look, with Alassé all but dragging her along as the elleth mutters under her breath in annoyance.

"Stop smiling; you're in trouble," Alassé tells her with a forced sternness, and Tauriel has to bite her lip to hold back her laughter.

"I can't help it," she shrugs. "I'm happy."

"About getting lost and nearly giving me a heart attack?"

"The king does not hate me."

Alassé stops short, and Tauriel stumbles into her back.

"You thought he hated you?" she asks incredulously, and Tauriel shrugs as she feels the other elf turn around. "Eru's _sake_ , Tauriel. He doesn't hate you, you're his _favorite_! Anyone with working eyes could -"

Alassé cuts off sharply, realizing what she's said, but Tauriel laughs through the start of her clumsy apology.

"Well, that might explain why I was not aware," she teases.

"More likely your own stubbornness coming to contest with his about who's going to speak first. Here," Alassé says, and Tauriel can hear a door open. "We're back at your room. Go get some sleep. I'll finish yelling at you tomorrow."

Tauriel obediently bids Alassé goodnight and closes the door over before she slips her boots off and climbs into her bed.

She still has a smile on her face as she drifts off.


	14. Chapter 14

Thranduil follows the sound of muttered curses down the hallway, unsurprised when he finds Tauriel to be their source. He had been looking for her all morning without success, but it seems that she was rather occupied. She is on all fours, her hands trembling as she skates her fingers over a bed of small river rocks. Thranduil stares at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what she is attempting to do.

"Where is it?" she is whispering frantically, "I heard it hit, it has to be here..."

She is picking up the rounded stones, running her fingers over their surface, and then discarding them, and it only takes him a second to realize that she must have dropped the runestone she got from her dwarf.

He glances around briefly, his one good eye quickly locating her rock. It is just behind her, almost underneath her foot, and he represses a chuckle as he picks it up.

She jumps as he takes her wrist, startled, but as soon as he presses the stone into her hand she calms.

"You found it," she breathes, clutching the stone close for a second before she tucks it back into her pocket, and his lips quirk up a bit.

"Thank you, thank you so much" she smiles, looking up. "Erm...who is this?"

He doesn't reply, instead gently taking her hands and bringing them to rest on his cheeks. Her eyes widen with wonder, her lips parted slightly as she traces her fingertips over his face in a feather-light caress. She follows the bridge of his nose and the line of his jaw, and her eyebrows pinch together in concentration. He tries not to smile as she traces a finger across his lips.

He can tell the exact second when she pieces it together, her eyes widening as her hands slip from his face.

"My Lord!"

"Very good," he smiles, catching her hands in his and drawing her to her feet. "Shall we go for a walk?"

She manages a nod, and he links her arm with his to guide her.

He is relieved to see that she no longer shies away from him, but she is still nervous as he leads her through the halls, and he murmurs "almost there" to her as they get close.

He brings her to his throne room, walking her into the middle of the floor and releasing her hand. He then retreats to the foot of the dais. When he turns around he can see that Tauriel is fidgeting anxiously, and can tell that she wants to question what he is doing.

"Walk toward me," he calls, and he sees the flicker of uncertainty in her expression. "The ground is flat, you will not fall. Guess how far I am from you by my voice, and approach."

Tauriel's brow furrows in concentration, and he watches as she blinks her silvery eyes slowly. Her first few steps are confident, but that confidence quickly flags as she gets closer. She pauses a few paces away from him, one of her hands reaching out before her, and he murmurs "closer." At the sound of his voice, she confidently closes the last few steps.

"Again," he says, stepping around her and striding into the room, taking a wide arc around a side table so that she will not run into it. "Listen to my footsteps, follow my path." He stops and turns. "Come here."

She concentrates for half a second, nodding to herself, then matches his movements, walking in a wide arc around the furniture and stopping before him. He beams down at her, letting his voice soften with affection as he speaks so that she might know that he is pleased.

"Once more. I wish you to become familiar with this room."

"The throne room?" she asks, and he suspects that she has merely guessed at the location.

"Yes. I would have you as a personal assistant, if you were willing." He sees her catch an excited breath, but cuts her off. "I warn you, it will not be easy. You will need to be able to move around freely and confidently, and to find things placed around the room. You will need to be able to find me and move to my side by hearing my voice alone."

She nods, a determined look flashing across her features.

"I will, My Lord."

"Good," he smiles, again walking a distance away from her before turning. "Come here."


	15. Chapter 15

Tauriel is a fast learner, always has been, but this does not make their task any easier. The first few weeks are mostly him conducting business as usual and having Tauriel trail in his steps, and subsequently learning that excess furniture or floor decorations will be a problem, as a good portion of that time is spent with her picking herself off the ground and him moving whatever she tripped over to the edge of the room. By the end of the third week, the room is mostly clear of furniture except for his throne and a few small tables at the edge of the room. He has also forbidden anyone placing things in the room without prior warning after he had nearly lost a bottle of Dorwinion because one of his council members moved a chest into the room and Tauriel - expecting a clear path - fell over it. It was only thanks to her quick reflexes that she was able to tuck into a roll and prevent the bottle being broken.

In the weeks they spend practicing, Tauriel demonstrates an uncanny ability to trace location by sound. He merely has to speak a few words and she can navigate to his side without error.

However, he hadn't realized just how sharp her senses had truly become until just an hour ago.

Bored, he had pulled a pebble from the sole of his shoe and flicked it away. He would have thought nothing of this action had Tauriel not turned her head unerringly to where the tiny rock hit the wall, and then where it hit the floor and bounced.

She had tilted her head a bit, curiosity peaked at the sound, and he had felt his own curiosity itch.

He had told her to bring it back to him and watched in wonder as she glided to her feet from where she sat at his side and crossed the room, her fingers brushing the ground a mere inch from where the pebble had landed. It only took her a second to find it, and she had an eyebrow raised in question as she returned to his side with the rock. Since then he had tossed the pebble half a dozen times and sent Tauriel to retrieve it, and she had yet to lose track of it.

Now, as he watches her retrieve it again and she all but skips back to his side to deposit the little rock in his hand, a smile sneaking onto her face, he can only stare in wonder.

"You are surprisingly good at this," he murmurs, throwing the pebble straight up, to bounce from the ceiling. Her head snaps up as it connects, then down as it hits the ground and bounces away, and Tauriel turns to follow it without hesitation.

"Throw it back to me," he calls as soon as she has it in her hand, and here she hesitates. "Go on," he encourages, and she draws back for a second before letting it fly.

He should have expected it to come for his head, if he is being honest, but her accuracy takes him by surprise and he ducks to the side sharply to avoid the pebble.

"My Lord?" she asks as she hears it hit the back of his throne, but he just chuckles.

"Now that could come in handy," he murmurs, picking up the pebble. "Dodge left."

He throws it before she can ask what he is doing, but she obeys without question and sidesteps the pebble just in time. She jumps slightly in surprise as she hears it connect behind her, and turns to where it hit as he smiles.

Yes, this could be very useful indeed.

* * *

Gallion should suspect that something is going on when he hears soft laughter and movement from the throne room, but his mind is absorbed in other affairs and he does not think too much on it.

Pushing the door open, he steps inside and clears his throat, eyes still focused on the paper he holds.

"My Lord, I-"

Something smacks into his forehead, the shock rendering him mute, and he slowly turns to see Tauriel with her hands clasped over her mouth in horror, blind eyes focused in his direction. A pebble lies at his feet, and he slowly reaches to rub at his stinging forehead in confusion.

A deep laugh from the other side of the room catches his attention, and Lord Thranduil stands from where he is hidden behind his throne.

"So sorry, Gallion. We did not expect you."

Now he can only stare in shock. His Lord has been tossing a pebble back and forth with Tauriel, running around the throne room like an elfling at play? Oh, Eru give him strength...

With a long sigh he holds out the paper.

"I will leave this with you for now, and beat a tactical retreat before I am besieged by more gravel."

Thranduil's smile is a bit more sheepish now, and Tauriel is flushed absolutely red, but the king crosses to him and takes the paper, perusing it. Thranduil gives him a nod, letting him know that he is dismissed, then stoops to snatch up the pebble and hurls it at Tauriel with a sharp "dodge".

The girl ducks instantly and his king's throw misses. She turns to follow the stone as it hits the opposite wall and Gallion decides that it's about time that he take that retreat when he sees her locate it and pick it up.

He backs out of the door as Thranduil slips silently into the middle of the room, and Gallion tries not to smirk as his king's trailing robes hiss across the floor and the elf has to twist out of the way to avoid being nailed with the pebble as Tauriel throws it back.

"Children..." he mutters in slight exasperation, closing the door firmly. "No matter how many thousands of years they live, they are still children."


	16. Chapter 16

Thranduil looks up sharply when he hears a crash from the small storage closet adjacent to his throne room, and is on his feet barely a heartbeat later.

"Tauriel?"

"I'm fine! I'm...I'm okay!" she calls, but there is a strained undertone in her voice, and he speeds his pace to check on her. His stomach clenches with worry despite her assurance, and he pushes the door open, quickly scanning the room for her. When he spots her, however, the only thing he can do for a long minute is stare.

She is - _somehow_ \- upside down, her torso slipped through the open back of a chair with the chair tilted at an odd angle so that it leans against the wall, and a bookshelf half on top of her. One of her legs is bent up between the shelf and her body, the other is pinned between the bookshelf and the seat of the chair. Her hair is splayed out everywhere.

"What-" he starts, but can't really find many more words than that.

"I mis-stepped," she mumbles, the tips of her ears flushing as she squirms to get herself free. "Everything's fine."

"...would you like some help?"

"No, I've got it," she assures him, grabbing the wooden supports of the chair back at either side of her waist and trying to worm her way free, but her legs are trapped by the shelf and can't bend the proper way for her to turn over. Thranduil watches her struggle for a moment with a raised eyebrow before clearing his throat. Tauriel goes limp with a long sigh. "Okay, maybe I'll need a bit of help."

He straightens out the bookshelf, relieved that there had only been a few scrolls and ink wells on it when it fell, before helping Tauriel free. He cups a hand around the back of her head to make sure that she does not bump it as he helps her extract herself from the chair, and steadies her with an arm until he is sure that she has her footing.

"Whatever were you trying to do?" he asks, brushing dust from her hair and shoulders.

"I was going to get one of the books you mentioned the other day off of the top shelf, but my foot slipped and...well..."

Thranduil straightens up the room a bit as she shifts her weight from foot to foot nearby. Nothing is broken, miraculously, and from what he can tell from the few surreptitious glances he gives her, Tauriel is unharmed as well.

"That was rather foolish," he scolds gently, arranging the scrolls in a stack on the shelf as she hangs her head, embarrassed. He turns to her with a sigh. "You know, Tauriel, if you want my attention there are far less dangerous ways to get it. Speaking to me, for example."

She glances up to stick her tongue out at him for that, and Thranduil smiles. He shoos her out of the closet, closing the door behind him, and trails her back into the main room. She stops at the edge of the dias as usual, and he slips past before turning to face her.

"Now," he starts, lounging back in his throne and patting the corner for her to sit, "what is it that you wanted?"

She hesitates, uncertainty flashing in her expression, and approaches but does not sit.

"It...it was nothing, My Lord."

He cannot hold in a small snort.

"It is never 'nothing' with you. Speak. Out with it. Why did you want the book?"

She ducks her head again, and her ears go a bit redder.

"Meldirion would often read to me when I was still getting used to this," she waves a hand before her eyes, and pauses for a long breath before speaking again. "I...I miss it," she murmurs, looking away.

Thranduil stares at her for a moment in silence. Of course she would no longer be able to read, but the thought had not even occurred to him.

Pity again tugs at his heart. She is certainly pushing forward bravely, but her punishment has taken its toll on her, and will continue to do so for as long as she lives.

If she wishes to be read to, well, he is not about to deny her that.

"If that is all," he says smoothly, getting to his feet. He takes Tauriel by the shoulders, guiding her around and sitting her down on the edge of his throne before walking back toward the closet. "Which book was it that you were you looking for?"

"I-...that is-... any of them, really," she answers at last, fidgeting in place. It only takes him a second to locate the tomes, and he picks up a well-worn one with a familiar cover.

"Very well. I shall start with my favorite of the lot."

"My Lord, please do not trouble yourself-"

"Hush," he murmurs, turning through the old, yellowed pages as he crosses back to her. "And move to one side. If we're both going to fit comfortably, you must share."

She closes her mouth as she obediently shifts over, and Thranduil nestles himself in at her side, balancing the book in one hand as he drapes the other across the carved wood.

"Chapter one," he starts, and smiles when he feels Tauriel lean close in anticipation. "The old forest road had not seen passerby for many a year..."


	17. Chapter 17

(PS: Set to full view and back up from screen)

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This has been your April Fool's Day Update.

Actual chapter will be posted later. ~Kage


	18. Chapter 18

Tauriel lets out a light sigh, sipping at her drink.

The sounds of music and happy chatter surround her, and it is all a bit dizzying. Feasts at the palace were always a grand affair, but without her sight, the sounds from all directions are enough to make her head spin. Although, grant it, the wine is doing her no favors there.

There is a lull in the music, followed by scattered applause, and Tauriel takes a slow breath as the room quiets down for a short while. She lets the tip of her finger run along the cool metal rim of her goblet, feeling the smooth glide over her skin save for two spots - one at the seam of the chalice and the other a small dent from being dropped at some party that probably took place decades ago. She repeats the circuit over and over, feeling the bumps in the metal run beneath her touch like a heartbeat.

Two elves pass nearby, chattering excitedly about a hunt that they'd come back from earlier, one claiming that the boar was the biggest that had been presented at a feast in at least two centuries. The other was arguing their own record, claiming that only fifty years ago, there was-

"Tauriel."

She looks up sharply at her King's voice, resting the chalice of wine against her thigh as her finger continues to absently trace the edge.

"My Lord?"

"Come. Dance with me."

She falters for a long second, her sightless gaze dropping back to her lap out of habit.

"I...I cannot possibly-"

"I will show you. Come along."

Hesitant, Tauriel sets her wine aside and stands, following Thranduil's lead as his hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She can hear the soft murmuring of voices and the hissing movement of fine robes, creating a gentle hum to which the musicians pluck strings and tap at percussions, waiting to start.

When the tune plays it is one that she recognizes. A moderately-paced circle dance, where the partners are handed off between measures.

"I cannot-" she starts, but Thranduil tugs her into a twirl before she gets a chance to finish.

"Don't be absurd. Of course you can. You know this dance already, just take it slow. Let me lead."

Tauriel takes a deep, steady breath as she focuses on where Thranduil's touch is guiding her. She has no visual cues, and has to rely solely on his movements. He makes them obvious for her, however, drawing her in the proper direction with large, sweeping motions that she can keep track of and follow in time to the beat. He is starting out at half the pace of the actual dance, and Tauriel tries not to step on his feet or trip over his robe as much as she tries to keep pace.

This proves to be a losing battle however, as her foot catches in the edge of his robe on the next turn and she stumbles. He has a firm hold on her and does not let her fall, but neither does he slow the pace or stop.

"My Lord-" she starts when she feels his foot beneath her next step, but he hushes her.

"You're doing fine. Keep going."

Tauriel suspects that everyone is staring at her, and she feels warm with embarrassment and the heat of their imagined scrutiny. That as much as anything is throwing her off.

She feels the king's foot beneath hers once again, and she lets out a sharp breath in annoyance at her own clumsiness. Thranduil shifts slightly, distancing himself half a pace, but does not slow down.

"You really don't have to do this," she says softly, and can feel his shrug.

"This is a festival," he says, leading her slowly through another turn, "I am not going to leave you to sulk in a corner."

"I was not sulking," she mutters. His only response is a quiet laugh.

"Yes, you were. Now," he cuts her off, and she can _hear_ the smile in his voice at the face she makes. "Try it a bit faster."

She ducks around beneath his arm when she feels it lift, and lets him guide her back into his hold. Her next step is wildly uneven, however, and she bites back a curse when she realizes that she's stepped on his boot yet again.

"It's all right. Keep going," Thranduil coaxes immediately, and Tauriel follows along to his lead with a sharp sigh.

"It is difficult when I have no sight to guide me," she mutters, half hoping that he will let her go back to her corner so she can continue not-sulking.

"I did not let it stop me."

"You can still see out of one eye," she replies petulantly.

"And you can still hear and feel. You simply have a better excuse for stepping on my toes than I do for stepping on yours."

Tauriel has to suppress a snort at that.

He does not let her slow her pace, running her through the steps faster and faster until they are matching tempo with the song. It is a bit dizzying, to be twirled about in the dark with nothing but sound to tell her what direction she faces, but it is exhilarating as well.

"Ready to join the others?" he asks softly, and Tauriel has to take a moment to get her bearings before she nods. "Just like we've been doing. Now, take a large step back in three...two..."

Tauriel moves in sync with him, and they are suddenly in the middle of the chaos. She can hear people around her, closest on either side, but Thranduil draws her into a twirl before she can think too much on it. She passes close enough to the couple beside them that she feels their hair and clothing whip past one another, but they do not collide.

Tauriel takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she forces herself to relax. Her king will not let her come to harm, and she trusts him to lead. She repeats this to herself as Thranduil takes her through the steps once again.

Once she has stopped edging closer to him for fear of colliding with the other elves, she finds that she no longer catches on his robe or steps on his feet. He is aware of what is going on around her so she does not have to be, acting as her sight in the confusion of sound. Every move comes smooth and fluid, and Tauriel finds herself smiling.

She can do this.

"Pass," Thranduil murmurs against her ear, and the next thing Tauriel knows she's been spun into a new pair of arms. For a second all she feels is the dizzying emptiness of being lost, but whoever caught her leads her seamlessly into the familiar steps, and she calms.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Feren," she breathes, relieved to find that her new partner seems just as at ease with her sightless movements as Thranduil was. He must have been watching.

"You look lovely tonight, Tauriel."

"I would return the compliment, but for all I know you have your tunic on backwards. You sound well, however," she says with a little smile, and hears him chuckle in return.

"I am glad to see that you have not resolved yourself to sulking in a corner for the rest of the evening."

"I was _not_ sulking," she mutters, ducking into a twirl when Feren's arm lifts and leads her around beneath it. "I was merely...thinking."

"Ah. I do hope that it was not too exhausting a task."

"Watch it; I'll step on your foot and you'll have to forgive me," she says with a practiced dryness in her tone that would impress even the king.

"Of course," Feren laughs, and she can only hold her severe expression for another few seconds before she breaks down and laughs along with him. Feren speaks up again a second later. "If you don't have plans for later, Tauriel, perhaps you would join me for a round or two? I plan on drinking Aerlinn and Míriel under the t- whoops!"

Tauriel is spun around rather suddenly, and finds herself with a new partner before Feren gets a chance to finish. It throws her for a second, but a steady pair of hands supports her, guiding in the right direction until she gets her bearings.

"Like hell he's going to be drinking _anyone_ under the table," her new partner mutters, slightly louder than is necessary, and Tauriel tries to bite back a troublemaking grin as she identifies Aerlinn.

"I can try," Feren calls from somewhere to her left, and Aerlinn snorts as Feren's new partner laughs.

"I'm not carrying your sorry, drunken arse back to your room tonight after you lose," Aerlinn says.

"Why do you think I was asking Tauriel to join me?"

"Oh, like I'm going to be any help with that," she says, her smirk spreading into a grin at the sound of Feren's groan. "Well it's not like I memorized the path back to your chambers. We'd _both_ wind up in a river somewhere."

"I'm sure you could find him some nice table to sleep beneath," Aerlinn assures her, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he spins her around. "Trading partners; you ready?"

Tauriel nods, and her hands are holding empty air for a second before a set of lithe fingers slip between hers and tug her into another twirl.

"Hello, Captain."

"Meldirion!"

"What's this I hear about Feren sleeping under tables?"

"Drinking contest," Tauriel laughs.

"Eru help him. You think he'd learn."

"It's been three hundred years. I doubt he's going to figure it out."

"Most likely not. By the way, I found another book you may like, Captain."

Tauriel feels him lean closer, the brush of soft hair against her bare forearm and cheek giving away his movements.

"It is a dwarven book," he whispers conspiringly. "Was on the back shelf, underneath a few tomes about stone carving."

"What's it about?" she breathes, feeling a thrill of excitement as he spins her around gracefully. Since the battle, she seems to have developed an insatiable taste for the culture that she'd nearly been a part of, and the prospect of new knowledge about it always makes her giddy.

"Not sure," Meldirion says, and she feels him shrug. "I was waiting until you were there to open it."

"Then it shall be a surprise for the both of us," she smiles. "Thank you, _mellon_."

"Trading partners," he cautions, and Tauriel follows his lead through a turn as he passes her to another set of waiting hands.

This elf is one she does not know as well, and cannot recognize him from his greeting. He does not speak much, but he is as accommodating of her blindness as the others were, and she does not so much as stumble when he passes her to the next in line.

The rest of the dance is a blur, and just as fun as she remembered it to be from when she could see. She does manage to step on poor Hedryn's foot, and bumps into someone when Bedhiruil forgets that she cannot see who is near her and moves them too close to the couple behind them, but otherwise everything goes smoothly.

Galion cannot resist a comment about their last encounter when they find themselves as partners, and Tauriel is still laughing at his description of the king's embarrassed expression when she is spun away into the next set of arms that waits to steady her.

"Ah, there you are," Lord Thranduil's voice is cheerful, and Tauriel smiles as he takes the lead. "Having fun?"

"Yes," she laughs, ducking beneath his arm and catching his waiting hand with ease.

"Good."

The music slows in a final few notes and stops, applause and chatter erupting around her. Thranduil's hand ghosts across her shoulder, drawing her closer as he speaks.

"Would you like to work through another dance?"

Tauriel considers for a moment as the orchestra tests a few notes in the background and the elves around them all shift and mingle. They are somewhere in the middle of the ballroom, an island in a sea of chatter, and she cannot for the life of her tell what direction is what.

"I would, but for one thing, My Lord," she says.

"And what is that?"

"I suspect that it may take me all evening to simply re-locate where I set my drink down."

The king is silent for a second, but then bursts into laughter, and Tauriel is so surprised by it that she is unsure how to react for a second.

"Dear girl, I will give you a bottle all to yourself if you wish," he replies at length, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Come, one more dance. While we are both still sober enough to stand."

With a smile of her own, Tauriel takes his hand and ducks into a twirl as the music picks up.


	19. Chapter 19

"I want to learn how to fight."

Thranduil nearly chokes on his mouthful of wine, swallowing hard to get it down before turning to stare at Tauriel. She is looking up at him expectantly, although her eyes are focused somewhere slightly over his head, and he has to take a moment to process what she asked.

"You want to-"

"Learn how to fight. And do so effectively without being able to see," she says. "I am sick of being helpless."

He wonders for a moment what has brought this on all of a sudden, staring down at the girl with his brows pinched as worry tugs at him. Has something happened that he does not know about?

"Tauriel-"

"You are blind in one eye, you could teach me how to compensate."

"Yes, but-"

"Please!"

Her look is earnest, determined. If he refuses her she will likely seek lessons from another, with or without his permission, and so he concedes with a sigh.

"I will not be sending you into any fight of any kind, no matter how mundane," he warns, but she nods.

"I know. And I would not ask to join any fight. I would be a hindrance. However, should I find myself in trouble, I do not want to have to rely on others to rescue me. I will _not_ be helpless. Not again."

Thranduil can only stare at her in growing despair.

He wants to tell her that she will never need fear that, that he would never let harm come to her, but her face is set and he knows that she will not accept that answer. After all, despite his efforts he could not spare her the heartbreak of losing her dwarf. Or the loss of her sight.

With another sigh he sets his goblet aside.

"It will not be easy."

"You said that about being your assistant as well. I will manage."

"You will likely never fight as you once did."

"I understand."

"I will only be training you on my terms, and if I feel it is too dangerous I will not allow it to continue."

Here she hesitates, looking for a second like she will argue, but after a moment of deliberation she nods.

"I agree."

"Very well. I will look into the matter. Next week, if scheduling allows, I will begin training you to fight."

"Thank you, My Lord," she breathes, her tone mixed relief and excitement.

Thranduil hums a note of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, but cannot stop the feeling of worry that coils low and heavy and cold in his stomach.

She is not wrong. The world is a darker place, with only more darkness approaching every year, and being prepared for the worst case scenario is far better than winging it when the time inevitably comes. But the thought of putting a weapon in her hands and sending her up against an enemy that she cannot see chills him to the bone.

It was bad enough watching her and Legolas run into the fray of battle; finding her afterward in tears up on Ravenhill, sure that he would have to watch her fade to nothing in her grief. Preparing her to fight blind will cement the fact that he cannot keep her safe, no matter how he wishes to.

It means that he will fail her again, and when that time comes she will either have to save herself, or he will watch her die.

His thoughts drift for a moment to Legolas, and he feels the familiar stab of guilt that accompanies the boy's absence. His son is another constant worry - somewhere over the Misty Mountains and without so much as a letter sent home to say he arrived safely. Elrond will take care of him, of this he has no doubt, but the Lord of Imladris is far from omnipotent, and cannot be at the boy's side the whole time he is there. Thranduil tries not to let the fear for Legolas overwhelm him, but at times it feels that if he does not have his son where he can keep him safe, he will go mad with worry. Legolas is all he has left of his wife aside from some cold gems, and if anything happened to him, Thranduil would never forgive himself.

Perhaps he should write to Lord Elrond, just to check in. Make sure Legolas arrived whole and hale. His son can be so forgetful, it's a wonder he hasn't lost his head clear off his shoulders...

Movement from Tauriel interrupts his thoughts, and he glances down as she lets out a soft, sad sigh. Making a note to write to Elrond later, he forcibly clears his mind and refocuses it on the nearer of his two worries.

"Tauriel?"

"I will not be able to use my bow, will I?" she asks softly.

Her expression is as dejected as he's seen it in a while, and Thranduil looks down at her for a moment, considering. It is not impractical that she use a bow, as she did when she was lost in his garden - listening for her enemies' approach. So long as she has someone to confirm her targets before she looses an arrow, there should not be a problem. Her accuracy in hearing will certainly be of use to her for that.

And, more importantly, a bow will keep the enemies she is fighting at a distance.

"I don't see why not," he says at length.

She looks up sharply, her eyes wide, and he smiles. Thranduil reaches to smooth a stray hair from her face, tucking it back behind a pointed ear.

"Cheer up, little one. We may teach you to use a bow yet."


	20. Chapter 20

Thunk. Thunk.

Thunk. Thunk.

Thunk. _Clatter._

"Damnit!"

Thranduil raises a brow, sending a sidelong glance at Tauriel as she violently shakes an arm, a long lock of hair tangled between her fingers, her bracer, and her bow string. A few more seconds of her flailing does not get the hair free, and Thranduil sets his bow aside with a sigh.

"Hold still," he murmurs, teasing the knots out with his fingers as Tauriel growls her general annoyance and tries not to fidget. Her other hand is down at her side, twitching slightly with the urge to clench. They have been at this for a few hours now, and her patience is worn thin.

Once he has freed her, Thranduil scoops her hair back in a hasty braid, tucking the end into her belt to keep it out of the way, and returns to his post a few feet off to the side.

"Ready? Again."

He draws his bow, watching Tauriel do the same in his peripherals. Her stance is a little off, too closed in with uncertainty, but he can work on that later. He releases his arrow, watching it sail across the practice field to sink deep into the center of a straw target.

Thunk.

Tauriel, hearing the sound of his shot striking, judges the distance and lets her arrow fly.

Thunk.

On the edge of the target, but getting better.

"Good," he murmurs as she lets out a huff of breath. "How many shots do you have left?"

He can see easily enough from here, of course. She has half a quiver left, and fifteen shots is more than sufficient to crowd the targets, but the total is not the point of his question. He wants her to practice.

Tauriel skims her hand over the arrows, her fingers dipping to trail through the fletching and divide the ends into groups as she takes count in one smooth motion.

"Fifteen."

"Three more shots and then we will clear the targets."

He takes aim at the target to the left and shoots, Tauriel following his lead.

Thunk. Thunk.

This time her shot is closer to the center, a bit to the left, but he does not tell her that. He had tried telling her where her arrow struck early on, but if she knew where she needed to correct she would try to compensate instead of simply letting the sound guide her, and her next shot wouldn't even be close. He had been watching her progress silently for the past hour, offering no corrections or even indication of how close she hits (aside from the shots she misses, which she can hear hit the stones of the wall) and has noticed an improvement. It is slight, and will take some practice to better hone, but he has hope.

He sends an arrow into the target on the far right for her, watching her almost hit the center with a little smile, and then he switches back to a far left target, just to throw her. Tauriel nearly misses this shot, but it hits the rim of the target and stays, so he counts it as a success. Orcs are very broad, after all.

He sets his bow aside with a murmured "well done", and Tauriel hesitates for a second before following suit with a bow of her head to acknowledge his praise.

He makes quick work of retrieving the arrows, separating out hers to give back to her, and drops them into her quiver as he walks past.

"My Lord?" she asks, shifting her weight and tilting her head slightly as she listens to him walk away.

"Farther back, Tauriel. We're going to shoot from a hundred yards now."

Her lips tug down at the corners in a frown and she makes no motion to follow him.

"Why can't we continue to shoot from here?"

He raises a brow, exasperation threatening to turn his mood.

"Tauriel, we have been increasing the distance all morning. What difference does another twenty yards make?"

"Everything starts to get fuzzy about that far out," she argues, waving a hand in the direction of the targets. "Why can't I practice at a distance where I can actually hit?"

"You plan on waiting for the orcs to position themselves where it is convenient for you to shoot them?" he asks a bit dryly. Tauriel shoots him a glare, groping for her bow.

"No, of course not! But can I not simply wait until they are closer to shoot them, if I need to?"

"You cannot fight them if they are close," he snaps, not even wishing to entertain the thought. "They will kill you."

"That's what I have a knife for," she replies, giving up on the bow and drawing one of the practice daggers he'd given her, her tone as irritated as his.

Thranduil growls in annoyance as he stalks over to her side and Tauriel draws herself up defensively.

"And what if one of them tries to take your weapon?" he asks, grabbing hold of her wrist to confiscate her practice blade. "What will you do then?"

Tauriel takes him by surprise, latching onto his wrist and twisting her upper body. Her feet stay firmly planted, however, so the action tugs him off balance, over her hip. From there it is only a small move for her to throw him, and he tumbles into the dirt a few paces away, the air knocked from his lungs.

Tauriel is standing tall and proud when he looks up at her, twirling the wooden blade in a hand. "I will deal with them like that," she replies sharply, striding toward him.

And then her foot catches on a dip in the ground.

It is almost as if he watches in slow motion, how one of her steps stumbles into the other and her face shifts from triumph to surprise, her arms flailing in the air as she pinwheels them to stay upright. This does nothing, however, and she sprawls forward gracelessly, landing across his stomach.

The breath is crushed from his lungs in a sharp huff as she falls on top of him, and he stays on the ground for a moment, his hands groping for her shoulders as he stares at the sky and tries to catch his breath. Tauriel mutters a curse, her forehead pressed to the dirt.

The absurdity of the situation makes him smile, coaxing a snicker from him that bounces Tauriel as she groans and tries to prop herself up. She falls back against him, knocking the breath from his lungs again, and he feels her giggle as his undignified 'oof'. The feeling of her laughter transfers from her trembling body to his, and he finds himself chuckling as well.

They are both lost after that, laughter catching him up and dragging her right along with him as they lie there in the dirt, helpless and weak with their mirth. After a time she starts to cough, the dust they stirred up sticking in her throat, and he rolls her off to the side so that he can sit up and catch his breath.

"I do not believe that crushing the orcs to death will be a valid option for you, Tauriel. You may want to re-think your strategy," he teases.

Tauriel drags herself to her feet, dusting haphazardly at her tunic as he stands up beside her.

"I'll tell Feren that I threw you like a trainee," she threatens with a smirk, and he cannot help the wicked grin that spreads across his face as he ducks in close and grabs her around the middle.

Tauriel squeaks in surprise as he hefts her over a shoulder.

"Perhaps I shall drop you in the river. You're all dusty, I'm sure a bath would do you good."

"D-don't you dare!"

"I thought you were going to go bragging to Feren," he teases, walking back toward the door that leads inside. "You wouldn't want to track dirt all through the palace. Unless, of course, you have re-thought your decision?"

"Fine, fine, all right" she sighs, and he stops walking with a smirk. He sets her back on her feet, holding her for a moment to be sure that she is steady, and she shoots him a troublemaking grin. "I won't tell Feren that his king got beaten in a sparring match by a blind elf who has yet to turn a thousand."

"I might go drop you in the river anyway," he grouses. Her smile widens.

"You'll have to catch me first," Tauriel challenges, whirling in a blaze of hair to run, but he grabs her back into his arms before she can get far.

"You're about to escape into a set of closed doors, dear one," he chuckles, and she flushes red.

"Right."

"Come," he says, offering an arm. "You can gloat over a warm meal. I am famished."

"Won't Míriel yell at us if we track dust into the kitchens?"

"Yell at her King?" he asks in mock surprise. "No, dear child. You are the only one mad enough to do that."

Tauriel tries to keep the guilty smile from her lips but ultimately fails, and Thranduil loops his arm through hers before leading her inside.

(Tauriel never lets him hear the end of it when Míriel does, in fact, yell at him for tracking dirt into her kitchens.)


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Just in case you people were getting too many happy, fuzzy feels...

* * *

"Thank you."

Tauriel glances up from the herbs she is soaking in water, her eyes meeting a pair of liquid brown ones across the poorly lit room.

"For saving my life," Kili specifies, the corner of his mouth twisting up into that achingly familiar smirk. She suppresses a smile, nodding to him before turning her attention back to her task. The herbs are floating on the surface again, dry, and won't seem to absorb water no matter how many times she presses them to the bottom of the bowl. They prickle slightly against her fingertips as she submerges them once again, and she hears the dwarf stir from behind her.

A glance over her shoulder confirms that Kili is trying to sit up, working his arms beneath him to take his weight, and she frowns. He should not be trying to get up yet, his wounds are too fresh, but before she can reprimand him another voice speaks up.

"Kili, lie down. You're hurt. The elf will still be here when you wake, so lie back and sleep a while."

She hadn't noticed the golden prince before, although he is settled on the window seat like he has been there for a while. He glares at his brother until the younger dwarf gives in with a sigh, and Tauriel again turns her attention to her task.

The herbs still float in the water, dry.

Wrinkling her nose in annoyance she scoops the sprigs out, hoping that the warmth of the water will have been enough to infuse the medicinal compounds from within the plants. The water smells just as strongly as it normally should, so she brings it to the dwarf's side.

Kili is on the other side of the room from her, however Tauriel finds herself surprised at how long the distance across the floor seems. There is also a slight tilt, as if the lake is rocking the floor, and her task becomes infuriatingly difficult with each step.

When she at last reaches Kili's side, she finds him looking up at her with the same adoration and trust that he had when she returned the runestone to him in the dungeons. He smiles at her, reaching to take her hand, and she watches as he twines his fingers through hers. His hand is warm and calloused, his fingers far broader than hers. He touches her as though afraid she will break, and she tightens her grip on him to assure him that he need not worry about being rough.

"You know, even though I'm a dwarf, I'm starting to see what you like about the stars," Kili muses. He catches a lock of her hair, twirling it like liquid fire between his fingers, and gives her a cheeky grin that tells her he is not truly referring to the stars when he next speaks. "I could grow to love anything possessing such beauty."

"Is that all you see?" she questions softly, shifting the bowl so it sits beside his wounded leg. "Beauty?"

"My Lady, that is merely the start. Strength, radiance, grace, skill...the list goes on."

"I did not think stars possessed skills," she replies, giving nothing away yet, but Kili is grinning up at her like a fool and he catches her hands in his to draw her closer.

"You know full well which star I speak of."

She does not have time to put together a witty reply. Kili gives her hands a little tug, pulling her closer, and leans to brush his lips against her cheek in a feather-light caress. The movement both shocks and thrills her, and Tauriel turns her head to accept his next soft kiss on her lips as Kili hums a sound of pleasure. They deepen the kiss into something slightly more substantial, airy brushes exchanged for a heated and drawn out contact between them.

When they part, hovering only just far enough so they are not touching, he is looking at her with bright eyes and they are both out of breath.

"Thought you were supposed to be checking my wound," he whispers, his breath warm as it ghosts over her lips, and Tauriel has to take a slow breath to steady herself before straightening up. Drawing away from him feels like a loss, and she resolves to close that distance once more as soon as she is sure that his wound is cleaned of the poison and will not cause him pain.

When she checks his leg, however, she finds the wound closed over, as if it had been healing for weeks. The skin is twisted in lumpy scars that lead into a deep pucker where the arrow had pierced him, but it is closed, and she wonders for a second why she'd been preparing the herb water at all if he is not bleeding any longer.

Although she could have sworn she saw his leg in wraps just a moment ago.

Before she can comment on this, however, a roar shakes the ground. An orange glow lights up the room through the curtained windows, the dishes rattling on their shelves as Bard's children scream. Suddenly the room is very crowded indeed, full of dwarves and human children all running about and into one another and panicking.

Tauriel falls back on her experience as Guard Captain and barks orders to the dwarves out of habit.

"Get the children down to the water. Get in a boat and leave the city, do not wait for me."

One of them tries to argue, an older dwarf with a bushy beard, but surprisingly it is Kili that speaks.

"Do what she says."

He is standing at her side, favoring his leg only slightly, and gives her a reassuring smile as he strings his bow. "Ready for this?"

"You're hurt," she tries to argue, wanting him to go with the rest, to escape the city, but Kili shakes his head with a gentle smile.

"You saw it yourself, my leg is healed. And I'm a pretty good shot for a dwarf," he adds with a wink, reaching to take her hand. "Come on, we have a dragon to shoot down."

She pulls him back before he can get far, and his look of surprise gentles when he sees the worry in her eyes.

"I don't want you to get killed," she begs. "I-...I..."

"I love you too," he whispers, drawing her near so that their foreheads press together. "Amrâlimê."

"My Love," she whispers in return, holding him close for a long moment until the ground shakes with the rumble of an angry dragon, screaming his rage to the sky.

Tauriel gives in, snatching up her quiver and strapping on her knives before tossing her bow over a shoulder and joining Kili in the foyer. They meet each other's gaze, and he nods at her.

Tauriel pushes the door open and runs out into the cold, her bow at the ready for all the good that it will do her. Outside the light of fire is everywhere, reflected blindingly off of the smooth snow, and she has to squint to be able to see. She can hear the heavy crunch of Kili's boots behind her as she turns, scanning the sky for the dragon.

The sky is lighter now, almost blue, and she wonders briefly why it is no longer night time. She can hear the screams of the hurt and dying, the roar of large beasts and clashing swords, and she turns about again, looking for enemies, but she seems to be alone.

The houses have melted into the background, leaving her standing by herself atop a barren rock face, the occasional snowflake drifting down from a pastel sky.

There is a body on the ground, half concealed by a pile of worn rubble, and she rushes over to see if they still live. Their skin is cold to the touch, and she gets a nasty shock when she turns it over and Edhiruil's dead gaze meets hers.

Tauriel stumbles away from the body, horror creeping up her spine. They were in Laketown, weren't they? She and Legolas had been the only elves to go to Laketown after the dwarves. Her guard underlings should not be here.

But when she next glances around she realizes that she is not in Laketown.

She is on Ravenhill.

And she is alone.

"Kili," she breathes, whirling to look for him. But the dwarf is gone, not so much as a footprint to show what direction he has taken. "Kili!"

Her voice echoes back to her from the stone, and Tauriel runs headlong into the collapsing tower. She can hear the clash of swords from above, grunts, cries of pain, and hollers of rage from both orc and dwarf. She takes turn after turn, seeming to go in circles but never able to find stairs to take her up a level, to where Kili will be fighting the orcs. A minute of searching turns into two, and the sounds of fighting slowly die away as she circles the passages in a panic.

One of her haphazard turns dumps her out onto the landing where she had seen Kili killed, and she freezes in horror. Bolg will be waiting for her here.

She nocks an arrow, half-drawing her bow as she prepares for a fight, but no orc appears, and after a long few moments Tauriel creeps out onto the ledge, listening for even the slightest sound.

The snow is falling in dancing white specks, the strong breeze carrying the flakes up and about but refusing to let them land. Tauriel paces the length of the rock.

When she turns to double back, her eyes catch a detail that about stops her heart in her chest.

There is a shape on the ground behind a pile of rocks, one with a mop of dark hair and dressed in Durin blue, and Tauriel breaks into a run, her bow forgotten.

"Kili!" she screams, skidding to a stop at his side. She drops to her knees behind him, a hand reached out to help.

But she hesitates.

There is no blood beneath his body, and she can even see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, but something feels _wrong_.

This is not how it went.

Kili was not waiting for her, the orc was.

For a moment Tauriel wonders if she has changed something she did this time around, something that she did not do the last time, and if that might warrant a different twist of fate for her dwarf.

That does not quell her feeling of unease, however.

After a long moment Tauriel plucks up the nerve to reach out, a hand gently clasped to Kili's shoulder, and she slowly begins to turn him over. His head lolls away from her, hair falling dark and ragged across his pale face, and Tauriel leans over him, calling his name in a whisper. Kili does not respond.

He is warm and alive beneath her touch, she can hear his breath - ragged but steady - and she wants to be relieved but something is wrong, and she feels uneasy and sick. She gently brushes her fingertips across his forehead, catching his hair to pull it out of the way. It is coarse between her fingers, and she smooths it back before clasping his shoulder to turn him over onto his back.

Bolg's face is grinning up at her from Kili's body and Tauriel shrieks, trying to scramble back as his hands close around her throat and tighten.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Kind of a cliffhanger. Sorry for that. Rest will be up next Friday.


	22. Chapter 22

_He is warm and alive beneath her touch, she can hear his breath - ragged but steady - and she wants to be relieved but something is wrong, and she feels uneasy and sick. She gently brushes her fingertips across his forehead, catching his hair to pull it out of the way. It is coarse between her fingers, and she smooths it back before clasping his shoulder to turn him over onto his back._

 _Bolg's face is grinning up at her from Kili's body and Tauriel shrieks, trying to scramble back as his hands close around her throat and tighten._

* * *

Tauriel awakens with the sound of her own scream echoing in her ears, clawing at anything within reach as she tries to fight her way free of whatever is strangling her. She is breathing hard, soaked in sweat, and not entirely convinced that she is not still up on Ravenhill - blind - with Bolg grappling her.

She grasps at her surroundings, trying to figure out where she is. She can't seem to catch her breath, and a phantom tightness is still closed about her throat where the orc's fingers had strangled her a mere heartbeat ago. She feels cloth against her sweaty palm and latches on, forcing her mind to focus. Cloth. Sheets. She is tangled in her blankets.

It takes her a few seconds to thrash her way free, kicking the covers onto the floor just to get them away from her. That done, she steadies herself on her hands and knees and starts forcing deep breaths.

A thump from somewhere in the distance makes her jolt, and her breath catches in terror as she hears a cry from a phantom voice nearby that she is not entirely sure that she imagined.

With a whimper, Tauriel curls into herself.

She can't tell where she is. Her mind is telling her that she's in her room, but her body is still wired with adrenaline and convinced that she is back on Ravenhill, leaving her lost and confused somewhere in between with her breathing coming sharp and fast as she panics.

Desperate for something to ground herself, her hand grasps clumsily for her dresser, her fingers trembling to the point of near uselessness. The feel of Kili's runestone, cool and smooth against her palm, gives her something to focus on so she can calm herself down from her impending hysteria.

It was just a dream. She is in her room. She is in her bed. She is safe. Legolas killed the orc.

And Kili is dead.

The last thought is not only unwelcome but bitterly painful, and she gasps out a breath as agony twists sharp and ruthless between her ribs.

Seeing Kili in her dream, being able to talk to him, _touch_ him, has made the loss all the more acute.

But none of that happened. It was all imaginary.

He died before she could truly hold his hand, or kiss him, or tell him that she loved him, all because she was too weak to save him. Now he will never know that she returned his love.

And she will be alone, forever.

Tauriel breaks down sobbing, curled into a little ball in the middle of her bed.

She grabs up two handfuls of her damp nightdress and presses it to her face to quiet her tears, breathing in the familiar scent of her room and warm cotton as she tries to calm herself down, but every thought leads her back to the same image of Kili lying lifeless on the cold stone, his blood creeping in rivulets across the ground. Or worse, Kili's body with the face of the orc that slaughtered him.

Tauriel gasps shuddering breaths between her sobs, her nails biting into her palms. She cannot even light a candle to separate herself from the nightmare with the light.

She is trapped in darkness with no way out.

The gentle rap of knuckles on her bedroom door makes Tauriel start, jerking her body upright.

"Tauriel?" a soft voice calls. "I heard you scream, are you okay?"

It is Ennith.

Before she truly knows what she is doing, Tauriel is stumbling out of bed, over to the door. Her hands clumsily search for the lock, turning it with a clack before she pulls the door open, and Ennith only has the chance to breathe her name before Tauriel has flung herself into the older elf's arms.

She is sobbing in full force again, and can feel her body shaking in Ennith's hold, but she feels safe.

"Tauriel," the healer murmurs, her voice tinged the slightest bit with worry as she wraps her arms around Tauriel's back and hugs her close. "It's all right, sweetheart, I've got you. You're okay."

Tauriel buries her face in Ennith's collar, her breath catching as she tries to smother her tears back and ultimately fails. Ennith hushes her, holding her close and stroking her hair as she murmurs comfortingly.

Tauriel tries to calm herself down, but it still feels too real. Her hand is cold where she turned over the corpse, her throat still sore where Bolg had used Kili's hands to strangle her, and another sharp sob wracks her body as she remembers the feel of a kiss that she never got, and never will.

"It was just a dream," Ennith soothes, running a hand through her hair in long, slow strokes. "You're okay, Tauriel. You're safe. It was just a dream."

Tauriel manages to nod, taking a shaky breath. It was just a dream.

And yet...was it entirely?

Kili is still dead. Her underlings from the guard were still slaughtered by orcs at the battle. It seems the only things she can place solely in the dream are the good ones, and Tauriel tightens her hold on Ennith as she desperately tries to clear her mind before it follows that particular path.

Ennith doesn't let go, allowing Tauriel to be the one who eventually draws back, when she feels that she finally has a grip on her emotions.

"I should go back to bed," Tauriel whispers. "Lord Thranduil expects me early tomorrow. I am sorry if I woke you."

The healer takes her by the shoulders, her grip gentle but firm. Grounding her.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks softly, and Tauriel hesitates. The thought of returning to her room sets off the feeling of unease once again. Ennith must see something in her expression, however, because the healer releases her and steps close.

"Let's go back to my room first. I'll make you some chamomile tea."

Tauriel nods, roughly smudging her palms across her cheeks as Ennith puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her down the hall.

The healer's room feels warm, the scents of herbs and spices heavy in the air but not cloying, and Tauriel perches on a stool as Ennith stokes a small fire in the grate.

"Try to relax, dear. Deep breaths," she instructs, and Tauriel obeys, focusing on slowing her heart rate until the kettle is ready.

The healer presses a warm mug into Tauriel's hands, settling on a piece of furniture nearby. Tauriel hears the slosh of liquid from that direction and assumes that Ennith has made herself a cup as well.

Tauriel breathes in the spiced scent from the mug before lifting it to her lips, savoring the hint of vanilla that the honey brings out of the chamomile as the warmth curls down her throat to settle comfortingly in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the other sensations around her and allows the dream to slip away.

When Tauriel finishes her tea, Ennith takes her mug and has her lie on her stomach across the bed, so she can knead the tension from Tauriel's back and shoulders. The herbs and the gentle touch soothe her into drowsiness, and Tauriel is asleep again before she realizes it.

What must be hours later, Tauriel awakes in her own bed, the covers tucked neatly in place around her once again and her nightdress changed for a clean one. Her runestone is on the dresser when she grasps for it, and she takes a moment to clutch it to her chest and just _breathe_.

She feels like she has been sleeping for ages, and bolts to her feet when she hears chatting voices from the hall outside. It must be far into the morning already for many people to be about. She is late.

It takes her but a moment to scramble into her uniform, her hair tossed into a simple braid to keep it out of the way until she can properly deal with it. Or until Thranduil tires of looking at the hasty plaits and takes it upon himself to fix them for her.

Tauriel hesitates before the door, taking a slow breath to compose herself before stepping out into the hall and turning for the throne room.

Someone calls her name, and Tauriel stops up short. She turns, recognizing the voice, and smiles shyly as footsteps approach her.

"Ennith."

"So glad to see you looking better this morning, dear. I already had word sent to Lord Thranduil that you would be late, so don't worry yourself about that," Ennith says as she comes to a stop before her, and Tauriel tries to hide a smile as the healer fusses over her, brushing wrinkles from her clothes and smoothing her hair more into place. "He is expecting you whenever you feel up to it."

Tauriel catches Ennith's hands, giving them a little squeeze.

"Thank you," she breathes. "For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"It's no trouble, dear," Ennith soothes. "Like I told you, if you ever need anything, just ask and I will be more than glad to help."

Tauriel offers her a smile, and Ennith leans to brush a kiss to her forehead.

"Now you'd better run along. Lord Thranduil will be waiting."

Tauriel nods, shooting her one last grateful smile, before slipping off to her post for the day.


	23. Chapter 23

Thranduil steps around a briar patch, his eyes searching the ground for the smoothest path to take so that Tauriel will have no trouble following him.

After weeks of her pacing around his throne room, tense and on edge, he had agreed to accompany her into the forest on a brief hunting trip to work off some of her restlessness. She had been practically bounding along at his heels since they left the palace half an hour ago, and he has so far managed to keep her relatively clean, unscathed, and on her feet despite the natural hazards of the forest, which in and of itself is something of a miracle.

He pauses when he hears Tauriel stop up short behind him, and turns to see her standing with her hands on the trunk of a tree. Her head is tilted back to face the canopy, and Thranduil knows what she is thinking even before she opens her mouth.

"Will you yell at me if I-"

"Yes," he interrupts, doubling back for her before she can think to try it anyway. "You are not to do any climbing. Maybe some other time I will let you, but I am not ready to let you leave the ground just yet."

She makes a small noise in protest, but allows him to lead her away without a fight. Her mood is far from dampened by his refusal, however, and she has a bright smile on as she grabs hold of his sleeve and follows in his footsteps.

"Where will we be hunting?"

"Probably down by the river," he replies smoothly, weaving between two large trees.

"Will you be telling me which ones to take?"

"I will tell you what you are aiming at, and allow you to decide whether or not to shoot."

"How much do you think we can carry back?"

"At most, a large deer or boar. If you go for smaller prey then perhaps a brace or two, split between the both of us. I would not suggest trying to go for too much, as it will make the return trip difficult."

"How much further until we can look for game?"

"Far, if you continue to talk," he scolds gently. "They will hear us coming."

Tauriel's responding smile is sheepish but entirely unrepentant, and she runs her fingers through the fletching of the arrows in her quiver in anticipation. Thranduil bites back a chuckle, pushing a branch out of the way and holding it for her to pass.

They could have taken the direct route to the river, of course - simply cut straight from the palace and followed the forest path to where the two intersected. However, he'd wanted to give her time to spend outdoors. What would normally be a ten minute walk had stretched past half an hour, and they were still a fair distance off, but Tauriel was smiling as she all but skipped along at his heels, and so he didn't bother to worry himself with timing. They would get there when they got there, hunt until Tauriel ran out of either arrows or patience, and then head back. Although he'd told her it would be a brief trip, he'd already planned and took the day for it, just to ensure that they would not feel rushed.

He is glad for that now, as he finds a clearing with some fallen logs and calls a brief stop. Tauriel pouts at the delay, but only for a second, and then she is darting about the open area excitedly while Thranduil digs out the bundle of bread and salted meats that had been sent with them as lunch.

"Tauriel, come sit," he calls with a laugh as she whirls about too fast and trips over a root, tumbling through the tall grass. She is on her feet again in a second, tucking her arrows back into her quiver and brushing imagined dust from her tunic as she crosses to sit beside him. He finds himself looking down into her smiling face, and cannot keep the corners of his lips from twitching up as well.

"What did you need, My Lord?"

"You to stop bounding around for long enough to eat something," he says with a gentle smile, placing a piece of meat on one of the slices of bread and taking hold of her hand to set it in her open palm. Tauriel blinks down at her hand with her brows pinched.

"It is not yet lunch time, why did we stop for food so early?" she protests, but she accepts the bread from him regardless, biting into it.

"Never hunt on an empty stomach, you should know that," he scolds lightly.

He prepares a slice for himself, biting into it and holding it with his teeth so he can put a second one together for Tauriel, who has eaten her first and is already groping about for the food. There is enough packed for them each to have three slices of bread, and Thranduil is only on his second by the time Tauriel has scarfed down her third and is practically bouncing in place, waiting for him.

"Patience," he mutters around a mouth full of crumbs. "We will be on our way soon enough."

Tauriel takes the waterskin from her belt, pulling the stopper before offering it to him. He accepts it and drinks, unable to stop his nose from wrinkling when he finds the water to be on the tepid side of cool, and wonders if perhaps he is getting too used to his luxuries in the palace if a little thing like warm water is enough to make him turn up his nose. He re-caps the waterskin, closing her hands around it so that she can fasten it to her belt again as he dusts crumbs off of himself and stands.

Thranduil is about to resume their trip to the river when he sees Tauriel perk up, looking off into the forest, and a second later hears the light sound of running feet. He stands, his muscles tensing on reflex even though he knows the sound of one of his own, and turns to watch the trees.

A dark-haired elf joins them in the clearing a few heartbeats later, breathing a bit more heavily than normal, and Thranduil allows himself to relax.

"Feren," Thranduil greets, but his smile doesn't last long when he sees the other elf's serious expression.

"My Lord, there are orc packs in the woods," Feren reports, offering a quick nod of the head in place of a bow. Thranduil raises and eyebrow, mouthing "how many" to Feren, who shakes his head in reply, mouthing the words "great many" before speaking again. "My patrol spotted them splitting up at the border. It would be best if you and Tauriel went back to the palace."

Tauriel looks like she wants to argue, but wisely keeps her mouth shut. She knows that she will be all but helpless out here, and the sting of needing to be whisked away to safety like a child is a blow to her pride that she will have to take. He will take her hunting some other time.

Feren lets out a small sigh of relief when Tauriel gives in without a fight, dipping her head in submission despite her frown.

Thranduil nods, taking her by the hand as Feren darts back into the trees, and he turns back toward the palace. From where they are, he can make it back to the main gate in fifteen minutes' time, even with Tauriel struggling along at his side. Hopefully that will be fast enough.

He feels Tauriel grab his wrist in turn, linking them together firmly as he sets off at a brisk walk, doing his best to chose the path that will cause her the least amount of trouble.

"My Lord," she asks, and he can hear the undertone of tense worry in her voice. "How many orcs are there, if there were enough to split into groups?"

And damn, if she hadn't always been sharp...

"It is nothing to worry about," he soothes her, but Tauriel scoffs.

"Then why do you sound so worried?"

"Because I would much rather that you and I encounter none of them."

Thankfully that seems believable enough a reason for her, and she hurries her steps to close the distance between them.

They haven't made it more than a few hundred yards, however, when the sound of an orcish horn has him quickening his pace with a curse, Tauriel muttering a curse of her own as she finds herself pulled into a sprint. She stumbles along behind him as best she can, one hand up to shield her face from branches. Thranduil tightens his hold on her wrist as she trips over a root, her hand nearly yanked from his grasp, but does not dare slow his pace. He has to get her out of here, he will worry about scrapes and bruises later. He is not going to risk her in a skirmish.

He ducks beneath a large, low-hanging branch, catching a hand around the back of Tauriel's head to pull her beneath it safely as well. They are far from the palace yet, with no clear paths that they can take save for the main road through the forest, but that is nearly as far off as the palace itself, and he does not trust either the open ground or the additional time that they will have to spend in the woods. He will have to make do with leading her through the trees as quickly as he can.

She is struggling, he can feel it. She keeps tripping, her hair and clothes getting caught on branches. The pace he has set forces her into a stumbling run, and he knows that she can barely keep up, despite the fact that she does not complain. He is sure that she can feel his urgency to get somewhere safe.

He steps one foot over a fallen log that blocks their path, grabbing Tauriel and lifting her over it instead of slowing his pace for her to do it herself. The sounds of the horns are still a good ways out, but nerves are itching at the back of his neck, telling him that something is wrong.

His forest has always been connected to him, more deeply than the other elves, and he can feel the evil creeping through the trees like poison in his bloodstream, edging closer.

Tauriel suddenly goes stiff beside him, and Thranduil has barely turned around to see what is the matter when the war cry of an orc splits the calm.

"Get behind me," he snaps, whirling around and drawing double blades as Tauriel scrambles for an arrow. He hears her draw her bow as the first of the orcs come into his view. There are half a dozen that he can see, more rustling out of view in the bushes, and he curses as he takes a second to better settle his feet.

"My Lord?" Tauriel questions in rising panic, her shot aiming up into the trees.

"I am at your side. If you hear something approaching, just shoot," he orders, and the snap of her bowstring is followed by a pained shriek somewhere in the canopy. An orc falls to the ground with a loud thud, her arrow through its chest, and Tauriel sends a second arrow into the corpse on reflex.

Thranduil turns from her in time to meet the first group of orcs head on, cutting them down as fast as he can whirl his swords through them. The only thought in his mind is that he needs to keep them from getting to Tauriel. She cannot see, he will have to be her eyes.

Farther out in the forest he can hear more cries, and figures that Feren must have stumbled across another group. He can only hope that they have found all of the intruders.

Tauriel is hesitant with her shots, her aim darting between a few sources of noise before settling on what she believes to be a good target and letting her arrow fly. Her aim is true, cutting down an orc, but it is not nearly enough to keep them at bay and she quickly scrambles for another arrow as she hears their continued approach.

Thranduil is ruthless, and the first group of orcs falls quickly to his attack, however he doesn't have time to recover. The noise of their fight has drawn another handful of stragglers to their patch of the forest, and Thranduil has to trust Tauriel to have his back as five more orcs burst from the undergrowth and try to rush them, another wave close behind. Tauriel's arrows take two of them to the ground, one through the face and the other through the gut, before they get near. His swords quickly cut down the first two that reach them, and the third only manages a single swing at him before it joins its companions in death.

The jarring blast of an orcish horn makes the two elves jump, and Thranduil locates the source of the noise just as Tauriel looses an arrow to sink into the orc's throat. It goes down with a gurgle, but the damage is done and he can hear returning horn blasts echoing through the forest.

Tauriel cries out from behind him before he can think too much on what they are signaling to one another, and he whirls around to see an orc with two fistfuls of her hair trying to drag her away from his side. His blade slices the orc's arms clean off, and Tauriel stumbles forward at the sudden freedom. Thranduil has barely a second to steady her before he feels the air current shift behind his head and has to shove both of them into a dodge to avoid the rusted blade of a cleaver. The wielder dies as soon as Thranduil manages to get his footing, his blades humming through the air with the speed of his swing, and he can hear Tauriel scrambling to get another arrow to the string behind him.

Thranduil brings his blades up crossed to catch the downswing of a war axe, the force of the strike sending a shock through his arms and into his shoulders. He kicks the orc in the chest, sending it stumbling back into its companion, before running the pair of them through.

A screech from his left is the only warning he gets before an orc charges him with a chipped broadsword, and Thranduil easily deflects the clumsy blow into another orc's chest. The two orcs blink for a second in shock, staring down at the sword that runs through one's chest, before Thranduil decapitates the sword's bearer and leaves the impaled one to fall dead at his feet.

Tauriel's bow is now a steady beat behind him - the creak of bending wood as she draws it, followed by the snap of its release, and then the rattle of her snatching another arrow from her quiver. A few of her shots go wide, thudding into trees or flying off into the canopy, but most of her arrows fly true and send orcs to the ground, howling in pain if not dead.

Thranduil's urgency lends him speed, clearing the last few orcs in sight as Tauriel picks stragglers from the canopy. As soon as the last falls dead, however, Thranduil sheathes one sword and whirls to grab her arm. Tauriel yelps in surprise, but a quick word from him hushes her and he turns to escape into the forest, pulling her after him as he leads the way at nearly a run.

They need to leave, before reinforcements arrive.

Tauriel is trembling, he can feel it where his hand is wrapped about her upper arm, serving to both guide and steady her. He uses the blade he kept unsheathed to cut stray branches from their path so that she will not get caught on them, but it is not nearly enough. They have barely made it a hundred yards when Tauriel's ankle gets snared in a briar. She is yanked from his grasp with a small cry, falling hard to the forest floor with her arrows scattering halfway out of her quiver.

Thranduil doubles back, whirling his blade up and bringing it down sharply to cleave the thorned tendril from its roots. He sweeps her arrows back into place and hauls Tauriel to her feet, barely giving her a second to steady herself before pushing on again without so much as stopping to unwind the thorn from her leg.

There is no time.

"My Lord," she gasps, pleading. Thranduil slows his pace the slightest fraction to adjust his hold on her arm, but does not stop his relentless push toward the palace.

This was no skirmish. There will be more, and they cannot afford to get surrounded.

They don't make it far before she nearly falls again, her ankle rolling on the uneven ground and almost pulling her from his grip, but this time he does not let her go, taking her weight until she gets her feet beneath her once more. The trees thin out ahead, and Thranduil takes advantage of the clearer forest floor to gain them some ground where Tauriel will not fall, but there is something moving in his peripherals.

He pulls up short, sending Tauriel crashing into his back as he spots a cluster of orcs loping through the forest a ways off.

"Hush," he hisses, pulling her to a crouch beside him. If they are lucky, the plants will camouflage them from the orcs' sight. While they wait, Thranduil cuts the brambles from her ankle, tossing them away and checking her briefly for injuries as she leans her forehead to his shoulder and gasps for breath.

A shout goes up from the orcs, and Thranduil spits a curse as he hears the crashing of trampled underbrush coming in their direction. Tauriel scrambles to her feet with her bow at the ready, and Thranduil allows her one shot into the clustered enemy before he catches her arm and pulls her away.

Tauriel is blind, yes, but she is still an elf, with all the agility and grace that such a thing gifts her. The orcs are slow and clumsy as they stumble through the trees, smashing their way through the plants more than dodging around them. Perhaps they can still outrun them.

Tauriel has both hands locked around his arm in a death grip, her head ducked to protect her face from branches and her bow slung over an arm to ensure that she does not lose it. Thranduil does his best to lead her where she will not fall, but that is hard to do at a run. Instead he focuses on keeping her upright and moving, hauling her back to her feet when she stumbles and pulling her along when she slows down. He can no longer hear Feren and the guard, and can only assume that they will be too far out of range for him to be heard if he calls for backup.

The orcs are loud behind them, shouting to one another in their foul tongue and trampling through the underbrush as they howl for blood. They are all on foot, and for this he is grateful. Wargs are fearsome creatures, and Tauriel's haphazard shots are not likely to take one down before it would tear her to pieces.

Tauriel suddenly jerks to a stop, and Thranduil turns to see what the problem is when she lets go of him. Her quiver is caught, a branch threaded through the belt loop, and she is scrabbling desperately to find what has trapped her.

"Hands out of the way," he orders, and as soon as she has tucked her arms up close he lops the branch from the tree. It is easy to pull it free from there, but it is too late. They have lost their lead.

The orcs are catching up, he can hear their shouts rise in excitement as they near their prey. There is going to be another fight, but at the very least he will pick where it takes place. Thranduil veers off to the side, pulling Tauriel into a small clearing where she will not have to fight the plants as well as the orcs around her, and draws his other sword. Tauriel takes a second to get her bearings, but as soon as she does she is back up and shooting, taking down three of the orcs before they are within striking range for him.

A large orc leads this pack, taller almost than he is, with human skulls decorating its belt and shoulders, and Thranduil feels a thrill of rage when he spots a chunk of silky elven hair tied around the pommel of the monster's sword. The creature's face splits in a yellow-toothed grin, and it draws itself up, pointing a finger at Thranduil.

" _Lat mat, golog glob. Gore golog durub! Ulog kalus!_ "

The burly orc raises its sword as it shouts the last words, and the smaller ones rush in with a screech, frenzied by them.

Thranduil lets out a curse.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Orcish roughly translates to "You die, elf filth. Kill elf ruler! Cripple archer!"


	24. Chapter 24

" _Lat mat, golog glob. Gore golog durub! Ulog kalus!_ "

The burly orc raises its sword as it shouts the last words, and the smaller ones rush in with a screech, frenzied by them. Thranduil lets out a curse.

He was their target.

Any orcs that Feren and the guard are occupying themselves with are a distraction at best, and he cannot count on their help arriving any time soon.

Tauriel is in danger as long as she is with him, and it is too late now to send her away. The orcs have seen her, and even if he is their main focus, that will not stop them from tracking her down. The vile creatures cannot resist disadvantaged prey, and he has no delusions as to what they will put her through should they catch her.

"Stay close to me," he tells her, bracing himself as the orcs leap at them.

Thranduil brings his blade in an upward arc, splitting the first orc from waist to throat, and it hits the ground beside him as he follows the move up with a sideways cleave from his other sword, spilling the gut of the next enemy. The third swing he uses to redirect a sword that is coming at his head, and follows with a thrust that puts his blade through the chest of the sword's bearer. He never stops moving - one strike after the other, never giving the orcs so much as a second to get through his defense - and in short manner they wind up at an impasse.

But then they get smart, and a few start circling around to approach from Tauriel's side. She cuts a few of them down, her arrows hitting the nearer targets without error, but then they begin to mass together and press in. Thranduil drives the orcs nearest to him back, ducking behind Tauriel to stand on her other side, and the orcs amassing there scatter. A few try to rush in, but he puts them out of their misery as soon as they are within striking range.

The large one chooses this time to attack, striking its sword against its chestplate three times before charging Thranduil with a roar, and he turns to face the new threat, hoping Tauriel will be all right.

The force behind the orc when Thranduil blocks its sword strike actually causes him to stumble back a pace, his fingers numb and the muscles in his arms burning. As quickly as he can manage, he throws his opponent's blade aside, lunging forward to strike only for the orc to deflect his attack.

It is a jarring hit, one that he did not expect, and for a moment he stumbles. When the orc tries to press the advantage, however, he strikes again. This time his sword clashes on crude armor, sending a burst of sparks into the air as it slides along the plates. The orc staggers back a step under the force of the blow, but it barely slows the hulking creature down.

It swings at him with a roar, and Thranduil blocks blow for blow, waiting for a chance to get past the orc's defense.

Tauriel cries a frightened warning to him that she is nearly out of arrows, and Thranduil maneuvers to get himself closer to her. The big orc lunges in, bringing its sword in an arcing sweep, and Thranduil has to leap out of the way, leaving Tauriel's back open. The beast doesn't waste a second in charging her, and Thranduil lunges close to pull her aside before she is harmed. His action sends her shot wide, however, and the approaching orc she was targeting is merely nicked on the arm. It leaps at them with a howl, and Thranduil pauses to finish it off before having to whirl back to the larger enemy and catch another overhead blow.

His sword rings with the sound of the hit, trembling in his grip. Tauriel is standing a pace behind him, an arrow nocked but unsure where to shoot, and he calls "I am here" to help her position herself. She doesn't waste a second in leveling her arrow at the orc he faces, and the creature retreats sharply as she nearly puts the shaft through its forehead. Thranduil follows it step for step, and Tauriel turns to protect his back.

The large orc howls out a command, and the smaller ones swarm in once more. Thranduil is left to fall back, so he can protect Tauriel. He growls in frustration as he is once again separated from his target, and his annoyance makes itself known in the ruthless way he cuts down the smaller orcs that dare attack her.

Tauriel is conserving her arrows, down to only four in her quiver, and she lets him pick off the smaller orcs for her. She is trying to figure out where the large orc is, her lips parted in concentration as her drawn arrow hovers in vaguely the right direction. The large orc is watching her warily, keeping its movements slow and quiet so that she will not hear its steps as it circles the clearing.

It steps on a branch, however, splitting it with a sharp crack, and Tauriel whips around to face it.

She releases her shot and the large orc dodges, the arrow pinging off of its armor. She draws a second immediately, but Thranduil commands "don't waste your arrows," and she lowers her bow with a frown.

A couple of the smaller orcs creep in, and she turns her attention to them instead, drawing her bow to scare them back but not shooting - not yet.

Thranduil looks up sharply as he hears a roar.

The big orc is back, and he once again catches a brutal overhead blow before it can harm either him or Tauriel. This time however, when their blades meet, the orc's sword shatters.

Thranduil winces as a shard of shrapnel cuts his cheek, staggering back from the sudden shift of force. The orc nearly falls on its face, but scrambles to stand once again, the jagged-ended blade still clutched in a hand. It stumbles back to the tree line, watching for another opening.

There are only a few stragglers now, four orcs lurking around the edge of the clearing and two circling closer, tempting Tauriel's arrows as the big one readies itself for another charge at him.

She has three shots left.

Thranduil looks around desperately. He has only his swords, and he doesn't dare waste one on throwing to kill a smaller orc when their leader is shifting its weight in anticipation, eyeing him hungrily.

One of the small orcs is the first to move, and Tauriel puts an arrow through its chest before it can take more than five steps. Another two charge in immediately, and he hears her shoot just before the large one charges in and he is forced to look away.

Their blades clash in a ringing blow, and the orc hops back a pace before lunging in for another swing. With a cry of fury, Thranduil ducks in close and brings one of his swords down in an overhead blow. The orc is not expecting this, and misses the block completely. With a howl of agony the creature staggers back, blood pouring from a cleave in its forehead but not dead. Not yet.

Thranduil strikes blow after blow, the orc's clumsy blocks catching less than half of them as it staggers away, black blood gushing to cover its face. Thranduil manages a kick to the chest that sends the orc to the ground, closing in quickly for the kill.

He sees movement in his peripherals, however, and looks in time to see the three remaining orcs slip close, behind his back.

"Tauriel!" he cries, whirling around, but it is too late. The orcs have gotten between them.

She spins to face him when she hears his voice, and for a second he fears that she will mistake one of the approaching orcs for him, but the dumb creatures hiss out a challenge as they close in, and Tauriel takes a pace back as she draws her daggers. She is out of arrows.

The large orc howls again, and Thranduil turns around with a snarl. The beast's swing is clumsy, blinded by blood and limping, and Thranduil easily knocks the shattered sword tip aside with his left blade as he drives the right one deep, up into the creature's ribs. Black blood pours from the wound, running up the length of his blade as the creature wheezes out its final breaths and meets his gaze.

"Stay out of my forest, you miserable filth," Thranduil spits. With that, he throws the corpse aside and turns to find Tauriel.

The orcs have backed her up, taking turns darting close and dodging her wild swings as she slowly retreats, and Thranduil has barely started running for them when an arrow whistles past, clipping his ear before thudding into the trunk of a tree nearby. He turns to find another cluster of the cursed beasts, scrambling free of the bushes as they charge in.

Thankfully, these ones seem to have no interest in Tauriel, leaving her to the three orcs currently antagonizing her in favor of encircling him, and Thranduil tenses as he finds himself surrounded.

There are nearly a dozen, a few of them worryingly large, all heavily armed and armored. He glares a challenge, deciding which one to attack first as they shift about. The larger ones would be ideal targets to eliminate first, however he decides to focus the orcs separating him from Tauriel and whirls into a lunge that drives his sword deep into one of their throats. The creature goes down with a gurgle, the two nearest orcs leaping back with cries of fright and anger, and the ones behind him charge in as soon as his back is turned. He spins on his heel, sweeping his sword out in an arc to drive them back as he re-centers himself.

Thranduil hears the creak of a bow being drawn and looks up sharply, eyes searching for Tauriel.

The orc with the bow is training an arrow on her.

"On the ground!" he orders, and Tauriel drops into a crouch so fast that the nearest orc trips right over her. The arrow sails harmlessly over her head, impaling the foul creature that stands beside her instead. It takes him barely a heartbeat to snatch a knife from the hand of a nearby orc and fling it into the archer's throat, and in that time Tauriel has rather clumsily dispatched the orc that tripped over her, her blades leaving deep, hacking slashes across its chest where she searched for its heart.

The other orcs, however, have pressed their advantage. Thranduil is left on the defensive, blocking sword strikes and dodging blows at a speed that doesn't let him center his balance or get a blow in. Thranduil tries to focus his attention on the orcs that separate him from Tauriel, but the creatures are all too happy to attack his unprotected back, and he finds himself whirling around in a circle, trying to keep them all away.

And then one of the large ones breaks away from the group.

Before he can call a warning to Tauriel, he feels something coil about his ankles and yank, tossing him to the ground. One of the orcs has a whip.

Thranduil whirls his sword about before they can swarm him, and in the heartbeat of time he gains himself he arcs the sword down to sever the lash. He is on his feet again in a second, gutting an orc that tries to jump him, and whirling to find Tauriel.

The large orc has staggered up to her, approaching from her back as she faces off against the final of the small orcs that had surrounded her. The large orc grabs her from behind, wrapping her in a crushing parody of a hug, and Thranduil is terrified for a second as the orc lifts her clear off the ground.

His worry is unfounded, however, because now Tauriel can _feel_ her opponent, and the orc doesn't stand a chance.

So fast that the orc cannot react, Tauriel twists sharply in its hold, hooking a foot around the back of its knee and winding an arm up to circle its neck. Driving her other knee into the creature's groin, she throws her weight and they both go tumbling to the ground. She rolls away as soon as it loosens its grip and buries her dagger in its skull, down to the hilt.

Thranduil loses sight of her for a second as he whirls to decapitate a burly orc, his swords licking through the dank forest air like silvered lightning, dealing death in their stride. An orcish shriek from behind him means that Tauriel is still all right, still fighting at his side, and he forces himself to stay calm as he hacks the arm off an approaching enemy before driving one of his blades deep into its throat.

He breaks through the group for a second, darting a few steps closer to Tauriel, only to have an orc latch onto his ankle and try to hamstring him. He whirls to kick the creature in the head, stumbling back as another tries to club him. The foul creatures charge him as one, shrieking.

He can feel hands grabbing for him, hear the ping of blades striking his chestplate. He is surrounded on all sides and they are all far too close. In a desperate bid for space, he spins with both swords extended as far as his arms can reach, then runs blindly for her side.

For a moment it works.

The orcs all leap back and he is able to shove his way past, killing the two nearest orcs on the way. Tauriel is still facing her smaller opponent, and Thranduil closes the distance between them sharply before turning to fight off the orcs that follow him.

He has nearly reached her side again, but now the orcs targeting him have a new opponent.

One of the orcs rushes in and slashes at Tauriel's side, her leather armor only barely stopping the blow from reaching her skin, but the force of it makes her stumble, and another orc grabs her by the throat.

Thranduil forces his way past some smaller orcs, rage and panic giving him the drive to throw off his opponents and stab his sword deep through the orc that has her as it tries to crush her windpipe.

Tauriel falls from the orc's hold and stumbles, coughing, but she is still on her feet and he is at her side again. They will make it through this.

He pulls her back-to-back with himself, murmuring "it's all right, I am here," to her, although he is not sure if it is to reassure her or himself.

Now it is the two of them - bloody, beaten, and exhausted - against about ten orcs who are creeping in from all sides, and Tauriel no longer has her bow.

Thranduil tries to keep them away from her as best he can, killing the first couple that try to charge them. There are too many, however, she cannot keep track of them all, and Thranduil hears her cry out in pain a heartbeat before her weight hits him from behind. It throws him off balance, and he turns to see what happened as he feels her slide to the ground.

A large orc is standing behind him, two hands raising a club over its head and its eyes focused on Tauriel, slumped at his feet with blood running down her face, stunned. Thranduil splits the orc's stomach with a backhanded slash, ignoring its bellow of agony as he doubles the strike back to decapitate it.

In the second that he is distracted, however, an orc slips past his guard, and Thranduil reels back as he feels the tip of a dagger slip past his chestplate to carve a slash down his side. He recovers quickly, decapitating the orc with a smooth swing of his arm, but the damage is done.

"Tauriel!" he snaps, praying that she will respond.

A small noise is all she manages, but it is something. She still lives.

He glances around quickly, tallying the remaining orcs. The numbers are thinning, but he just lost his only backup and now they are closing in, their ferocity doubled with their perceived victory. Thranduil shifts his weight, moving so he is standing overtop of Tauriel to protect her.

He doesn't like the odds, but he has faced worse and come out the victor. He is king for a reason.

The orcs close in once more, only a half dozen or so left, and Thranduil whirls his blades about himself to force them back. His footing is limited by Tauriel's body lying between his ankles, but she is starting to stir. Two of the orcs in front of him leap forward, and in the moment that he lunges forward to cut them down, he hears an orc jump close from behind him. He whirls one sword out behind him out of instinct, but meets only air.

He has to turn his attention forward as the two orcs try to overpower him, but there is a prickling warning at the nape of his neck, setting his nerves alight. The two orcs fall quickly to his swords, and he dares to take a second to look for the one that had tried to get behind him. A glance confirms that the orc ducked low when it ran close, and is crouching at the edge of his range with an arm reached out, but it has not attacked him yet.

He turns forward once more in time to catch a sword and deflect it, killing the orc that dared charge him before locking blades with a second.

Something moves between his ankles, and Thranduil glances down in time to see Tauriel's dazed expression a second before she is yanked back. He throws the orc that is holding him, putting his blade through its stomach before whirling to help her.

She cries out as she is dragged away from him, an orc grasping her ankle. Thranduil tries to follow, but the final orc jumps on him from behind when he turns, hands closed about his neck, and he has to focus his attention on dislodging his attacker.

A deep grunt and the crack of bone splitting behind him sends terror like lightning up his spine, until an orc starts howling in pain. Thranduil throws the orc that has grabbed him, stabbing his blade through its chest where it hits the ground before glancing back.

The orc that grabbed Tauriel is doubled over, howling in agony through a crooked and bloody jaw but still clutching her ankle, and he sees her deliver another sharp kick with the heel of her boot to dislodge it. Thranduil puts the orc out of its misery with a deft slash as Tauriel tries to scramble to her feet, and he draws her close out of instinct as he looks around for more attackers.

Now that the nearest orcs are dead there is relative silence in the forest, but he can hear the sound of howling orcs approaching from the underbrush, about a hundred yards out. Thranduil feels dread clawing its way up his spine as Tauriel goes rigid beside him, a white knuckled-grip on her knives.

There cannot possibly be more.

He tenses as they charge closer, shifting so that he stands between them and Tauriel, and a second later they burst into sight. These orcs look like they are fleeing, however, and he suddenly realizes what is going on.

The canopy crashes overhead, and Thranduil has half a second to whirl around and catch Tauriel's wrist to keep her from striking out. It is Feren and the guard.

The elves fall upon the orcs, silent and deadly, and Thranduil pulls Tauriel to stand between himself and Feren as they fight back against the last wave of the foul creatures.

"Are you two all right?" Feren asks, and Thranduil hears Tauriel breathe the other elf's name in relief as he nods.

"Are there any others?" he asks the dark-haired elf, gutting a nearby orc and dumping its body to the ground in disgust.

"This looks to be the last of them," Feren growls, putting his sword through an orc's eye. "We cleared up a few large groups around the border before we realized that you were in danger and doubled back. I'm not sure how this many of the wretched beasts got past our watch...not unless they had help."

The unspoken name hovers between them, conveyed in Feren's haunted glance, and Thranduil grits his teeth.

Sauron.

"Let's run this filth out of our forest," Thranduil says, putting the thought aside for now. Even though he has gotten backup he cannot afford to be distracted. Not when Tauriel is trembling behind him, looking around helplessly and unsure what noise to strike out at.

The orcs don't last long against a host of elves, and Thranduil bloodies his sword across one of their throats with a vicious snarl as their numbers thin.

The flat, bellowing call of an orcish horn echoes from nearby, and the orcs they are fighting turn as one and flee into the trees, screeching.

"That will be the call to retreat," Feren growls, twirling his blade in a hand as he shouts orders to his guards. Two of them split off, climbing into the canopy to spot for stragglers as the rest turn in the direction that the orcs ran.

Thranduil watches Feren lead the guard in pursuit, and allows himself a second to _breathe_.

He listens to the sound of the orcs fleeing, his warriors in pursuit, letting out a slow breath as the forest quiets to a dull hum once more. He is left alone in the clearing, Tauriel behind him, orc corpses scattering the ground, and two elves perched high in the trees to protect them. Black blood drips from his swords and armor, but the woods are hollowly peaceful once more.

It is over.

They are bruised and bloodied but it is _over_.

Although, a darker part of Thranduil's mind wonders, if Sauron is truly behind this attack, then is it actually over? Or have they just won a single battle in what is likely to be a long and bloody war?

If the dark forces could gather such an army in so little time since the fight for Erebor...

"M-My Lord?" Tauriel calls from off to his left, her voice wavering in fright, and he turns to see her with her arms splayed out to either side, searching for him.

"Tauriel," he calls, stepping around the piled corpses to get to her. She turns, eyes wide and tears streaking her cheeks as the reality of what just happened catches up with her. There is large cut splitting her forehead from where she was bludgeoned, dripping blood slowly over her pale face.

"My Lord?"

"Are you all right?" he asks gently, catching her face in his hands as he tries to smudge the gore from her cheeks. Tauriel reaches a trembling hand to trace her forehead, wincing a bit as she finds the wound. It is not deep, thankfully, but as with most head wounds it is bleeding profusely.

"I- I think I'm okay..."

Thranduil lets out a breath in relief, hugging her close and cradling her head to his shoulder. He hears her take a shuddering breath, her hands trembling where they are fisted against his chestplate, and he does not draw back until he is sure that she is no longer shaking.

"Are you all right, My Lord?" she asks softly. He catches her hands when she reaches for him, tracing his thumb soothingly across her bruised and bloodied knuckles.

"I am fine, little one," he assures her, ignoring the blood splattered across his armor and seeping slowly into his tunic."None of them could harm me. Let's get you bandaged."

He sits her down on a bowing tree root, untying his sash and fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. A splash of lukewarm water from Tauriel's half-emptied waterskin is all he has to clean the majority of the blood from her face, dabbing gently at the torn skin as she sits and winces beneath him. Once most of the blood has been wiped away he begins to wind the sash about her head. It is a crude bandage at best, but it will do the trick until he can get her back and let the healers look at her.

He will have to get looked at as well - he can feel the burn of the cut on his side, the drip of blood from the slit in his ear - but they are not deep, and he is more worried about the red-haired girl before him.

She is playing with a scrape on her arm as he works, the skin burning bright pink where an orc's nails dug in to hold her, and Thranduil watches her movements in his peripherals.

"You did well," he tells her softly, and Tauriel blinks up at him with a raised brow.

"My Lord?"

"You fought well today, I am very proud of you."

"You don't have to praise me," Tauriel chuckles weakly, "I am no longer a child."

"You do not have to be a child to be told that I am proud of you. You were very brave," he says, tugging the sash a bit tighter to be sure the blood flow is stopped before adding, "And, dear girl, you will _always_ be a child to me."

She flushes and dips her head, and he has to change his angle to continue wrapping her bleeding forehead. The cut is longer than he thought it was, hidden by the dripping blood that runs in tiny red rivulets over her fair cheeks, and he drops the next loop of cloth a bit lower to assure that it is all covered.

"I presume you won't mind my covering your eyes with this," he says as he ties the bandage off. She reaches up to adjust it more comfortably across her face, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Cover my eyes? However will I see to get back?" she asks, her tone worried, but she has a wicked grin playing across her lips, and he takes her arm to help her to her feet.

"Don't make me leave you out here."

"Ah, but who would trip over your throne and spill wine on you then?"

"I'm sure I will find someone."

"Perhaps Gallion," Tauriel suggests in a thoughtful hum, following his lead through the trees as he steps over roots and dodges around brambles, this time able to guide her safely through the undergrowth. The two guards follow in the canopy above their heads.

"That poor elf has been put through enough absurdities at my hand, I would not burden him with such a task as that."

"Then it looks like you will be stuck with me," she grins, and Thranduil slows his pace, turning to face her. He catches her head with a hand, pulling her close to press a kiss into her hair.

"Hopefully for a long, _long_ time, dear one."


	25. Chapter 25

Home has not changed much in the time that he has been away, for the better or for the worse, and Legolas breathes out a sigh of content when his feet lead him down a familiar forest path.

The trip from Ilmadris had been long but not overly eventful, with only minimal problems from goblins in the mountains and a brief encounter with would-be raiders on the road. The goblins had been too afraid to face him, and the bandits had quickly changed their mind when they found themselves staring down the shaft of one of his arrows.

Nonetheless, he is glad to be back on familiar ground.

Legolas keeps his eyes sharp as he walks the trail to the palace, listening for any sounds that might be amiss. Darkness is growing in the world, and he has seen it spread. Despite his father's efforts, he doubts that the forest is safe for a lone traveler to let his guard down.

Lord Elrond and Mithrandir had spoken of evil forces awakening in the East, beyond the Lonely Mountain. Sauron returned, or at least trying to. The Lady Galadriel had banished the darkness, but only temporarily. Everyone seemed to be waiting for the inevitable trap to spring.

The front gates of the palace come into view, and Legolas feels a grin spreading across his face. The two guards at the door perk up as he approaches, their expressions brightening as they recognize him.

"Prince Legolas!"

"My Prince!"

"Riniel, Gilgalad," he grins, rushing the final few steps to embrace the pair.

"You have been gone for so long-"

"-have missed you! How is Imladris this time of-"

"-journey back okay? No trouble from-"

"-lot of excitement around here, recently-"

"-glad to have you safely back! If there is-"

"-show you to the kitchens if-"

They are talking over one another in their excitement, and Legolas laughs as he holds his hands up to quiet them.

"I am fine. Simply worn from the trip. Food sounds lovely, although first I should see my father."

The two nod, and Gilgalad calls for an escort as Riniel grasps his hands in hers happily.

"We must remain at our post, but we get off duty tonight if you're up for a few drinks," Riniel tells him. Legolas grins at them as another two guards approach.

"When am I not up for a drink? You can count on my presence. I will see you later, my friends."

The two at the door wave him off as he turns to receive another eager greeting from the elves that approach to lead him to the king.

He has to tell the guards that escort him to be quiet at least three times on the way to his father's throne room, because their whispers are turning into loud chatting in their excitement and he wants his visit to be a surprise. He allows them to knock on the ornate double doors and announce a nameless visitor, and tries his best not to smile like a fool when his father petulantly demands to know why they can't just give him a name.

However, for all of his grouching, his father sounds well, and Legolas is thankful for that.

He knew that his father would worry about him, of course. Any parent would worry about their child being so far away from home, but his father has always been especially concerned about his wellbeing - almost to the point of being overbearing - ever since his mother's death.

And Legolas had meant to write - he really had - but with training and exploring and so many new people to meet, well...honestly, it had slipped his mind.

The guards before him both have their hands clapped over their mouths, trying to stifle their giggles as Thranduil snaps something unintelligible from within.

He hears the king let out a huff before he orders for the "mystery guest" to be shown in, and Legolas takes that as his cue to approach. With a grand flourish, he tosses the doors open.

The guards step back, exchanging mischievous smiles as Legolas strides forward to enter the room.

His father is standing by the throne, arms crossed over his chest rather childishly as he glares at the doors. When he sees Legolas, however, the king's eyes go wide with shock, his mouth slowly parting but no sound coming out as his arms fall to his sides. Legolas laughs at his father's dumbstruck expression, taking the stairs in two graceful leaps to land on the dias.

"Ada!"

Legolas crosses to his father and embraces him, taking a deep breath of the familiar scents of Dorwinion and leather. His father's arms cinch tightly about him a second later as the shock wears off, and Legolas smiles as he feels his father bury his face in his shoulder.

"My beloved son, how I have missed you..." the words are soft, choked with emotion, and Legolas feels himself tearing up as well. After a long second he clears his throat, gently drawing back from his father but not letting go just yet.

"I missed you as well, Ada. Have you been well?"

"As well as can be expected with my son so far away. How have your travels been? You are uninjured? Have you had anything to eat yet? You must be famished. Why did you not write me that you were coming? What if something had happened on the road?"

Legolas laughs out loud, squeezing his father in another hug to stop the string of inquiries.

"You are a worried mother hen, but I am no longer a chick. I am fine, Ada, I promise."

Thranduil responds by crushing Legolas against his chest, but the prince doesn't mind. He has never been away from home for so long before and he is desperately glad to be back.

However, there was someone else he had hoped would be here to greet his return.

Thranduil must feel the shift in Legolas' mood for he draws back, a hand cupping his son's cheek.

"Legolas?" the king asks.

Legolas runs his tongue along his bottom lip, glancing away for a second.

"Is something wrong, my son?"

He shouldn't ask. He knows that the last time he was here she had been banished and grieving, that his father had been furious with her. She had committed high treason, a crime that was near unforgivable. He knows it is likely that she has since faded, somewhere far from here, brokenhearted and alone, as she mourned the loss of her dwarf, but a part of his heart is begging to hear what exactly her fate has been despite it all.

"Legolas?" his father asks softly, his brows pinched in concern.

Setting his jaw, Legolas makes up his mind. He has to know.

"Is...ah...Is Tauriel...?" he starts awkwardly, but his father gives him a gentle smile, turning around.

"Tauriel!"

Legolas feels his eyebrows rise in surprise, and he leans to see around his father as he hears soft footsteps from the other room.

"Yes, My Lord?"

And there she is. Standing in the doorway, head canted ever so slightly to the side in question, a book folded gently in her arms. She is wearing her normal shades of forest green, although the style of her uniform has changed, implying a new position. Her hair is more pulled up than she normally wears it, a little jeweled pin holding it back from her face, and there is a small scrape on her forehead that is just starting to scab over. It's her eyes that cause him to catch his breath, however, because they are milky white with sightlessness, staring at nothing in particular as she blinks twice and tips her head to the other side.

His father had chosen to show her mercy, then. Recanting her banishment and allowing only a light sentencing as a traitor in exchange for disobeying his orders, turning her back on her people, and threatening his life. It is a shock to know that his dearest friend can no longer see him, but after so long wondering in guilt if she had died alone after he left, Legolas finds that he is merely happy that she lives.

Legolas lets out a shuddering breath, feeling his mouth tug into a smile, even as his eyes fill with tears. She is safe. She is _here_.

"My Lord?" Tauriel asks again, her tone growing slightly concerned.

"She doesn't know where you are," his father says, turning back to him. "Speak up."

His mouth feels dry, and there is something like nerves settling in his stomach as he swallows and clears his throat.

"Hi, Tauriel," he manages. It is not much, but apparently it is enough, and he sees her perk up.

It's almost comical, the way that her eyes slowly widen in realization, and then widen even further in shock.

"Legolas?" she whispers.

"Yes. I'm home," he smiles, but she reacts before he can say more.

"Legolas!"

It's hard for him to believe that she's blind from the way she runs across the room and all but launches herself at him, book forgotten. Legolas opens his arms and takes a step forward to catch her, sweeping her around in a circle as she laughs, her arms wound around his neck.

"I've missed you so much!"

"And I've missed you too, _mellon_ ," he murmurs, setting her back on the ground and hugging her tight as he brushes a kiss to her temple. Her laughter is soft and joyous, and he can feel her fingers carding through his hair as she pulls him close.

"Legolas, oh Legolas! Please say you are staying...?"

"I am."

She hugs him tighter, crushing a breathy laugh from him. When he looks up he finds his father smiling gently at them, and for the first time in a long while his heart is free of worry.

Everything is going to be all right.

He is _home._


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note** : OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY I FORGOT TO POST A CHAPTER LAST WEEK (In my defense it was Animazement weekend but _still_ ) Here's chapter 26! Please forgive me!

* * *

"It just doesn't seem fair," Legolas says softly, her face cradled in his hands and his thumbs brushing lightly over her closed eyes as they sit in the shade of a tree and relax. "There were surely other ways to punish you. They did not have to take your sight."

Tauriel shrugs, leaning into his touch. It is a bitter thought that she's had multiple times since drinking the poisoned liquid that turned her world dark, but she's also had time to reflect. In a way, she feels that it is the least she deserved after what she'd done. And in some ways, she is even grateful for it.

After all, it is always easier to suffer punishment than guilt.

But she doesn't want to dive into that cesspool of regret and self loathing just now, so she deflects.

"Legolas, you know the custom as well as I. I disobeyed my King and I deserted my post," she explains. "You realize that the humans _kill_ one another for such treason? And the dwarves, as well. What I did was no petty crime."

"No, it was not. Still... You didn't hurt anyone," he argues. "What you did affected only you."

She shakes her head, reaching up to press her palm to the back of his hand and trap its warmth against her cheek. Legolas has always been her protector, ever since she was small, and that has not stopped with age. He will blame himself, she knows, for not being here to stand in her defense. And she is not about to let him share her guilt when he did nothing to earn it.

"But I _did_ harm others, _mellon_. Even if not directly. I was the Captain of the Guard. I had great responsibilities to the safety of this realm that I ignored, and in light of an orc attack, at that. My subordinates had no one to lead them. Your father was left to march into battle by himself." Tauriel hesitates a second, worrying her lip between her teeth as she debates how much to reveal. "You realize that I am responsible for every death among the guard at that fight, don't you?" she asks softly, shame and a hollow sadness prickling at her as she remembers bloody faces and dead eyes on the battlefield.

"Tauriel, that is not true!" Legolas protests, and she feels herself tear up.

"Isn't it? Had I been there I could have commanded them. Perhaps even prevented the fighting between Lord Dain and your father, or advised him to listen to Mithrandir when he warned of orcs. At the least I could have prevented the deaths of many that perished that day."

"That is speculation," the prince says gently before her thoughts can drift to Kili, pulling her to rest against his shoulder as he leans back on the trunk of the tree. "Who's to say what would have happened had we been there?"

Tauriel shrugs. After a moment of silence she lets out a slow breath.

"I think it is fair. In the end I was allowed to return home, and I was forgiven for everything after paying for what I had done. I cannot make up for the lives I could have saved, but at least this is something."

"I still think it rather harsh."

"You never did like to see me get punished," she smiles.

Legolas chuckles, the feel of it rumbling up through his chest into her ear.

"Can you blame me? You were such a troublemaker it seemed every time I saw you, you were being reprimanded for something new."

"I was always finding some new trouble to get myself into."

"You say that as if you no longer do so."

"Not as much," she mutters, but she can feel the corner of her mouth tugging up in a smile.

They are silent for a while after that, Tauriel listening to the pulse of Legolas' heart beneath her ear as his slow breath raises and lowers his chest under her. It is reassuring - knowing that he is alive and well and safe at home. She had asked the king before for word of her best friend, but he could only share what he knew, and Legolas had always been bad about writing letters, so most of his adventures afar had been guesswork.

Thranduil had asked her multiple times if she wished to write to Legolas as well, to have him script a letter from her to send along with his own, but she had declined. Legolas would no doubt wonder at why her letter was in his father's handwriting, and then she would have had to tell him.

He knew now, of course. It was inevitable that he would have known the moment he returned, but Tauriel had dreaded his reaction when he saw what her actions had brought upon her head this time. For all that she was sure he would react with kindness, she had not wanted to disappoint him with how far she had fallen. Not after everything he had done to see her succeed.

Her thoughts scatter and refocus as Legolas shifts beneath her, and she feels him take a breath to speak.

"Hopefully you have not gotten yourself into too much trouble in my absence," Legolas prompts, and Tauriel smiles.

"As if your presence has ever stopped me from getting myself into trouble."

"Fair enough," Legolas chuckles, stroking a hand through her hair once more. They lapse into silence again, but Tauriel can feel unease from her friend. Legolas is tense beneath her, but faking calm, and it worries her.

"Legolas?" she

"I deserted my post as well," Legolas says at length. "They did not hold me responsible for my actions."

Tauriel lets out a sigh, twisting around to better address him.

"That's because it was not your fault."

"How so? I chose to leave, did I not?"

"Yes, but we all know that you would not have done so had I not run off first," Tauriel says with a smile, smacking his chest lightly. "Bloody knight that you are."

"Well I wasn't about to let you go get yourself killed."

"Exactly. I took advantage of that knowledge to lure you along, and therefore I am responsible for your desertion of your post as well, although your father would argue to the contrary."

And he had.

At her trial, Lord Thranduil had made it clear that she was not to hold any responsibility for the actions his son had taken, only her own. And even then, he had insisted that her affection for Kili be taken into mind, because love - especially young love, experienced for the first time - can blind one to the consequences of their choices. How ironic his words had turned out to be.

She hadn't truly been listening to anything that was said that day, her heart still aching with loss and her head still spinning with self-loathing at the listed names of her subordinates who had been slaughtered in the battle for the mountain, but afterwards she had remembered.

Even after threatening him with the most heinous of crimes, Thranduil had stood up for her.

Tauriel swallows hard, emotions burning behind her sightless eyes.

The feeling is there again, tugging at her subconscious, and Tauriel ducks her head, her fingers playing with the end of a long strand of silken hair. She cannot tell if it is Legolas' or her own.

Her voice, when she finally forces it out of the stranglehold that her emotions have on her throat, is barely a whisper. "Your father is kinder to me than I deserve."

"Tauriel," Legolas scolds immediately, hugging her tighter.

She feels pathetic.

Poor Legolas has barely been back for a day and already she's spilling her soul to him.

It makes sense, she supposes. He is her best friend, her older brother, and the one person that she can trust with absolutely everything, even things that she wouldn't dream of letting others know. And having him gone for so long has left her with all of her problems bottled up, meaning to deal with them at a later time. But it troubles him to see her upset - she can hear it in the tone of his voice, and can feel it in the way his fingers smooth gentle circles on her shoulder - and she hates to do this to him.

"Sorry," she laughs - a small, choking sound that sounds painfully forced. "I do not mean to sound so down. Guilt is a hard thing to recover from."

"You have suffered more than enough to make up for anything you did."

She shakes her head, but that only makes the Prince settle her weight more closely against him, pressing soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks as his thumb strokes along her jaw comfortingly.

"Don't cry," he murmurs, and only then does Tauriel register the warmth trickling down her face. "Don't cry, Tauriel. You are not at fault."

Yes, she is at fault, but it's still nice of him to say and it's what she needs to hear right now so she doesn't correct him. Tauriel winds trembling arms around his neck, pulling herself up to tuck her head beneath his chin as her breath catches sharply in her throat, wracking her body. She can feel his hands rubbing up and down her back, over and over, soothing her as she clings to him and sobs.

Tauriel can usually push old memories to the back of her mind, keep them from bothering her, but now she's opened the floodgates. It's rapid-fire images of Kili dying in her arms, Legolas leaving her to go to Rivendell, Thranduil's disappointment and anger, the dead eyes of her comrades and her soldiers as they lie on the battle ground, fire and screaming children as Laketown burns, trees sick and dying to the evil that she can never seem to stop, and blood - _so_ much blood - her parent's blood covering her, soaking into her clothes, still warm from where orcs had slit their throats and she had just _stood_ there and watched it happen, trembling like a newborn foal-

She flinches hard against Legolas' side, and he smoothes a hand through her hair, hushing her.

"I was such a fool," she admits, her words muffled by his soft tunic as she buries her face in his collar.

"When?" Legolas asks, disbelieving.

"At the battle."

She draws back from him, but the prince just pulls her close once more, so that her chin is resting on his shoulder and their heads are leaned together. Tauriel lets out a shuddering breath.

"I don't know what I was even thinking. I threw away _everything_ that you and your father had given me." But saying the words feels like betraying Kili, and that pain stabs up through her, bringing new tears to her eyes.

"I loved him," she amends, for her own sake as much as for Legolas, and the prince whispers "I know" against her temple.

"I loved him and I screwed it all up...I did so many horrible things, and then I couldn't even save him..." she sobs, and now that she has started baring her soul, she can't seem to stop. "What use were so many years of training when they did me no good the one time it mattered?"

"You cannot win every battle," Legolas soothes.

"I seem to win all but the ones that count!"

"You were defeated by an orc twice your size. One that, I may add, wiped the floor with me the first time we encountered one another in Laketown. You are lucky to be alive."

A small, despairing sound catches in her throat, and she feels Legolas hug her closer.

"Tauriel?"

"Kili tried to save me," she confesses after a long moment, and it hurts more than she thought it would to say it aloud. Her dwarven prince had been holding his own just fine until he went up against Bolg.

Kili would have lived if he hadn't come to her aid.

"A young dwarf with a half-healed wound and barely a dozen years of combat training." The prince's words are said gently, not meant to insult. "Even together, the two of you were no match for that orc, and the only reason I was even able to slay it was because you had both exhausted it by the time I arrived, and I was able to get in a lucky strike."

"If he hadn't tried to help me-" she starts, but Legolas cuts her off.

"Then you would have been killed, and your dwarf would have likely been the orc's next target."

She understands that - it makes sense that the orc would not have been satisfied with her death alone - but if only one of them was to make it out of the battle alive, why had Eru chosen her and not Kili? What was so special about her? At the time Kili was second heir to a reclaimed kingdom, and was needed to lead his people in his brother's place. He was young and innocent and loving and had everything to live for.

She was just a banished traitor, with nothing to lose but him.

And even he had been taken from her.

"I am cursed," she says softly, and aloud the words hurt even more than they had in her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Legolas asks, stroking a hand through her hair, still trying to comfort her as she blinks tears into his tunic.

"I could not save my parents, nor could I save the one I love. Every time I have had to fight for the life of someone dear to me, I have watched them die. I am a _curse_ , Legolas! I am a curse, and it is only a matter of time until you or your father gets killed because of me!"

The memory of Thranduil desperately trying to keep the orcs away from her in the forest makes her shudder. She knows that Legolas would have done the same without a second's hesitation. She is a burden to them now, a liability. It would have been better if she had simply been killed at Kili's side, instead of left alive by his sacrifice.

Pain stabs up through her, and she buries her face against Legolas' neck as she admits for the first time what has truly haunted her the most since that day.

"Eru, I wish I had _died_ ," she sobs.

"No," Legolas snaps, giving her a little shake. "Do not _ever_ wish that. Do you hear me?" He pulls her close, rocking her back and forth as she cries and stroking her hair to soothe her. "I don't know what I would do if you had died. Eru's sake, I don't even want to consider it."

"And what if one of you gets hurt," she sobs. She cannot do it again. She can't have any more blood on her hands, or she will surely fade to nothing from the grief of it. The thought of one more person dying to keep her safe is enough to make her sick.

"Now you listen to me," Legolas scolds, taking her by the shoulders. "Ada and I are more than capable of taking care of ourselves. We are also centuries older than you. If anything happens to us, that is our failing as warriors, not yours."

"I can't help you," she whispers, begging him to understand that she cannot possibly watch his back if she cannot _see_. "I can't-"

"Then don't," the prince says simply, cutting her off, and she can feel him shrug. "It is not your job to protect everyone. For once, allow me to help you. You have let this darkness fester within you for far too long."

Tauriel shakes her head. Legolas doesn't understand; how could he? He has never failed someone he holds dear the way that she has. He has never had to look himself in the eye and wonder if someone's sacrifice had been wasted on him. And he had certainly never frozen up in fear and horror at the exact second that taking an action would have saved the life of a loved one.

Like she had with Kili.

"It's all my fault," she cries, clinging to him desperately because he is the only thing keeping her from drowning.

"It's all right," he murmurs, his breath soft and warm against her ear. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise. It wasn't your fault. It's _not_ your fault."

Yes it is, she thinks, one hand fluttering traitorously to the runestone in her pocket as a sob catches in her throat.

 _Yes,_ _it is_.


	27. Chapter 27

Legolas twines a strand of copper hair about a finger as he sits before the dying embers of the fire in his father's study. Tauriel is already asleep, her empty wine glass on the side table beside the armchair that she has curled up in. His father is on the other side of the room, the crystal decanter clinking as he refills his glass and places the stopper back. Legolas is halfway through his second glass, and he can already feel the influence of the wine twisting through his mind, giving off a light, fuzzy warmth as it tugs his thoughts along in whatever direction they happen to wander.

Tauriel stirs a little in her sleep, and he stills for a second to be sure that he has not woken her before he returns to twirling her hair about his finger.

She looks calm, now; asleep and peacefully dreaming. And if not for their earlier discussion, he may not have even realized that something was wrong.

There is a darkness in her - some small, dead part of her _Fea_ that will not heal with any treatment known to the eldar - and it worries him.

It is the same hollow bit that was carved out of his father when his mother was killed, although Tauriel's is nowhere near as large.

His father's darkness is sprawled across his heart, spidery veins of pain and loneliness that sometimes make him quick to anger or vicious with his words. The scars are still there, wrapped around every part of his being, bound to muscle and bone and soul so tight that it must hurt to simply go on living.

However, they no longer feel as dark as he remembers they once had. They are more of a pale grey, with some shaded parts around the bits that hurt the most. It has taken centuries, but his father is healing.

Tauriel's darkness pierces sickly and deep through her, a small area in appearance but dangerously rooted. It is for her dwarf, he knows. The dark haired prince of the Durin line that stole her heart and then left her alone for eternity.

Some days Legolas resents him for it. If it hadn't been for the dwarves, his best friend would not have had her heart broken. She would not have been tempted away from her home, and she would not be blind. She would have never been hurt.

Tauriel stirs, as if sensing his troubled thoughts, and Legolas gently smooths the lock of hair he is toying with back into place. His father rejoins them, taking the other chair and lounging across it.

"You look troubled," the king says softly, and Legolas leans back as he turns to look at the much older elf.

"She's hurting."

"I know."

"I cannot do anything about it."

"No one can. Wounds of the heart cannot be so easily healed." His father's tone is gentle and understanding, and Legolas lets out a sigh.

"I just wish that..."

" _Ionneg_ ," his father murmurs, setting his glass aside and turning to sit properly in the chair. He leans forward, and Legolas looks up to meet his gaze when his father grips his shoulder. "You can no more help her than you could help me after your mother died. Do not let it worry you. She will be okay."

"There is darkness in her."

"Yes. It is from grief. But it is small, and it will weaken with time. Do not worry, I have been watching after her," his father assures him.

Legolas shakes his head sadly.

"She blames herself for everything that happened. The deaths. I have tried telling her that is not the case, but she thinks I only say it to soothe her."

"She will continue to believe that until she can forgive herself for it, and nothing you say will be able to change her mind," his father explains gently, eyes darting up to where Tauriel is peacefully asleep. "The most you can do is support her. She will have to fight her way through that darkness by herself."

Legolas sighs, draining the rest of his wine glass in one go.

His father raises an eyebrow but does not comment.

The conversation lulls for a long moment and Legolas fidgets, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. He already knows all of what his father told him - has gone through it once before after his mother passed on - but he was young then, and has been able to excuse his helplessness because of his youth. But now he is older, mature. He should be able to do something to help, and it kills him that his hands are once again bound when someone he cares about is suffering.

Legolas sighs, casting his eyes to the ceiling and taking a slow breath.

Out of his peripherals he sees his father move and looks up to see him glancing Tauriel over, eyeing her empty glass.

"Asleep so soon?"

"Long day," Legolas replies. "Wine probably didn't help."

"I suppose a glass or two would be enough for someone as slight of frame as her," the king murmurs, looking down into his own glass.

Legolas smirks, leaning back against the chair.

"She drank three glasses, actually...and then finished most of your second glass as well."

His father's eyebrows rise for a second before narrowing into a mock glare at Tauriel and proclaiming "how dare she," in a complete deadpan.

"You set it next to hers on the table" Legolas shrugs. "I don't think she noticed."

"Fair enough."

They fall into silence once again, but it is more comfortable this time, and Legolas lets himself relax. In the background a log crackles in the fireplace, casting a wavering orange light onto the floor and giving off a pleasant warmth. Tauriel stirs in her sleep again but does not wake.

Legolas sets his empty glass aside, resting his arms crossed over his knees.

He is content like this, being able to spend time with his father and his best friend. He had worried about the two of them, after all. His sudden departure must have come as a bit of a shock to them both.

He regrets it, of course - leaving them when they both needed his support the most - but at the time the only thing that had crossed his mind was the burning need to be away. Somewhere that he did not have to be smothered by the agony that swelled from his father like a storm cloud, or from the piercingly fresh grief of so many lost at the battle. The mere thought that he might be helpless to do anything but watch as Tauriel faded away over her dwarf...

Legolas suppresses a shudder so that his father will not see.

He had been weak, back then. Devastated by the tragedy of battle and horrified at the thought that he would have to watch his dearest friend slowly lose her will to live, so he'd taken the coward's route.

He had run.

And he absolutely hates himself for it.

Every time his father looks so _relieved_ that he returned safely, every time that he is once again reminded that Tauriel is _blind_ because he could not prevent her being punished, he thinks himself a coward and resolves to make it up to them somehow.

"Legolas?"

His father's voice stirs him from darker thoughts, and Legolas looks up to find the king's gaze upon him.

"Yes, Ada?"

The older elf looks like he wishes to ask a question, but after a second he seems to reconsider.

"Come, it is late," his father says gently instead, standing.

Legolas stretches back, his arms raised above his head and his head tilted slightly to the side so that the stiff muscles in his neck will limber up as he arches his back. His father takes the empty glasses, leaving them on a tray to be cleaned away in the morning, and crosses back in time to offer him a hand up.

He takes a moment to dust himself off as his father gathers Tauriel up in his arms. The girl stirs but does not wake, and his father nods for him to get the door. He follows the king down to Tauriel's room, the path old and familiar.

His father is quiet as they walk, but Legolas does not miss the way that he cradles Tauriel carefully so that he will not disturb her sleep, or the way his eyes dart down with a gentle concern whenever she stirs.

None of the elves that they pass seem to find this scene out of place, as if the king carrying Tauriel to bed is a regular occurrence. That in itself makes Legolas wonder how close his father has gotten to his best friend while he has been gone. He glances back over his shoulder with a little smile, and Thranduil raises an eyebrow as if he doesn't know why his son is grinning.

They walk in silence down one more set of stairs and a long hallway before they come to a familiar door.

Legolas slips Tauriel's room key from her pocket and unlocks the door, stepping inside briefly to tug the covers back from the bed as his father follows him. The king settles Tauriel on the mattress, leaving Legolas to slip her boots off and tuck the blanket over her as he strides back into the hall to wait. Legolas puts her key back into her pocket, so she can find it when she wakes tomorrow morning, and closes the door behind him when he follows his father out.

The king is waiting for him, and they turn as one to head back toward their rooms.

The prince looks around as they walk in silence, taking in the halls that he grew up in and feeling a painful twinge of nostalgia. He has not been away for long, but even the few months in Imladris has been enough to make him miss the towering trees of the woodland.

But this is only a short visit.

Realizing that he has not yet told his father, Legolas lets out a heavy breath, falling into step beside the king. He clears his throat slightly, for lack of a better introduction, and leaps straight to the point.

"Ada...I will have to leave again," he says, waiting a long second before meeting his father's gaze. "I need to go back to Imladris."

"So soon?"

His father's expression is devastated, and Legolas looks away guiltily.

"I will be here for another week yet, Ada, but I cannot stay much longer. I am needed."

His father is silent for a long moment, then Legolas hears him heft a sigh.

"I cannot be selfish, no matter how I long to protect you, my little leaf. Do you know how long you will be gone this time?"

"Not long, I hope, but I cannot say for sure," Legolas admits. "There is a darkness coming, and I am told that I am needed."

"Then you may go with my blessing, but let us not discuss your departure until a later point. For now let us enjoy the time we have together."

"Indeed," Legolas nods, letting out a breath in relief. "Although there are some things I will need to see to before I leave."

"You do not have to worry about Tauriel. I will watch over her while you are gone."

"So you have forgiven her?" Legolas asks.

"Yes."

His father does not elaborate on the why or how, and Legolas resists prying for details. It is enough that she will be safe and looked after. He will not be leaving her on her own again.

Although, it would seem that the worst of the damage has already been done...

The king slows his pace a fraction, jarring Legolas from his thoughts, and he slows his own pace to match his father's once more.

"Ada?"

"You had a question?"

Legolas cannot help a little smile from quirking briefly at the corner of his mouth. His father could always read him like a book.

"It is nothing, Ada," he murmurs.

"I know there is something you wish to ask me, I can see it in your eyes. Speak, son. What troubles you?"

Legolas takes a long second to screw his courage together before taking a deep breath and turning to address his father.

"...did she have to be blinded, Ada?"

His father blinks in surprise for a moment then lets out a long sigh, his expression troubled.

"It was not my wish to do so, Legolas. I could not override the council. Not entirely. Many of them had loved ones who died at the battle - loved ones who served under her charge in the guard. They were hurting from their loss, and wanted to make an example of her so that others would not make her mistakes."

Legolas feels his stomach twist, horror itching at the base of his spine. He knew the punishments for high treason, as all elves did. And what Tauriel had done ranked up there pretty high.

"What did they-" he starts, but cannot seem to find the words to complete his question. That does not prevent the older elf from gathering his meaning, however.

"Nothing so bad as you are thinking, but they certainly had not planned on being lenient. They wanted to cripple her; to take away her ability to walk," his father says bitterly, "but I refused. Being stuck in a bed would have killed her as surely as locking a flower in the dark."

"And what did you propose be done to her?"

Legolas regrets the words almost as soon as they leave his mouth, but Thranduil gives him a dry smile.

"I wished for a few decades of imprisonment, perhaps the loss of her voice if they wanted something more permanent, but they said it was not enough to compensate for the responsibilities that she'd cast aside..." His mouth twists up in a wry grin. "The responsibilities that I had chosen to give her. In the end they sited tradition, where a higher rank brings more severe punishment, and my hand was forced. The middle ground was the blinding alone. It would be enough to ensure she was prevented from taking up her role as Captain ever again. I agreed to it, because while I knew it would make her life difficult, I also know that loss of sight is not completely debilitating."

Legolas tries not to wince as the king brings his fingers to his own blind eye, barely brushing the cheek before letting his hand fall again.

"Those that wanted her given a more severe sentence...they have not harassed her?" Legolas asks cautiously. His father's expression flashes for a second, something dark and unreadable fleeting across his features before they smooth over once more.

"From what I gather, most of them have since reconsidered their earlier insistence for her to be so severely punished. A few have expressed regret at forcing my hand while their own wounds were so fresh, causing them to seek what they thought was justice and preventing them from seeing Tauriel's actions as the one-time foolishness of a young elf that had never before rebelled." Thranduil lets out a heavy sigh. "But there is nothing to be done for her now. I cannot return her sight. As I had hoped, she seems to be adapting to being blind and going on with her life, and I am helping her along where I can, but there is only so much I can do."

"Tauriel always was a fighter."

"That she is."

They continue in silence until they reach the split that will take them each to their own rooms, and only then does the king turn to fully face him.

His father takes him by the shoulders and presses a light kiss to his forehead, murmuring "goodnight, my dear son. Sleep well," before releasing him. Legolas wishes him a good evening as well, and then returns to his room.

For a long while he does nothing but lie in bed, staring out the window and regretting that he had let his emotions lead him astray on that day in the past. He was right to have trusted Tauriel to his father's care, of course, but he should not have left home. He might have acted as another voice of reason to the council and spared her this agony.

Instead he ran away, and now there is no way for him to fix the damage that has been done.

All he can do now is try to make it up to her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And with that, I've caught up to where I left off writing. Which probably means a little hiatus between now and when I next get some chapters up. I will do my best to make that time "not long," as I am determined to finish this story before the end of the year, and most of it is filling in around what I already have written, but I cannot make any guarantees because of my work schedule.

Reviews are greatly appreciated, and as always, thank you all for reading and sticking with me so far!


	28. Chapter 28

"Ready...and...NOW!" Legolas hisses.

Tauriel empties her bucket over the banister, hearing the water cascading onto the floor below a second before a spluttering shout echoes up to them. She is quick to duck back behind the railing, feeling Legolas drop to a crouch at her side and trusting him to make sure she is hidden. The two of them smother their snickering as curses bounce around the arched ceilings from below.

"Legolas Thranduilion!" Galion bellows, and Tauriel has to bite her hand to keep quiet as Legolas goes stiff beside her.

Another string of curses accompanied by soggy footsteps is enough to send the pair of them into near hysterics, and Tauriel almost does not notice the squishing sound getting higher up and louder.

Almost.

"Stairs! Stairs!" she hisses, scrambling to her feet and grabbing for Legolas. He is quick to catch on, taking her wrist and darting into the lead as she hears Galion reach the top of the steps and round the corner. Trusting Legolas to lead her, Tauriel follows the prince at a dead run as Galion gives chase.

Their laughter and Galion's shouts echo through the corridors of the palace, and Tauriel can hear other elves in the halls as they dart out of the way or snicker at poor Galion's expense.

No one tries to stop them. This was a common occurrence only a few hundred years ago, after all. Before the two of them had gotten older and more serious. Before their world had become dark with the intruding evils, and their forests overrun with the spawn of evil.

Before they'd needed to grow up.

Galion has gotten no slower over the years, however, and despite their lead, she can hear him catching up. Legolas pulls her down a side hallway, taking another sharp corner almost immediately after, and Tauriel is whipped into a spin that lands her in his arms, pressed up against his chest.

"Ssh," he whispers, pulling her close, and Tauriel grins. She rests her forehead against his shoulder, trusting that they are hidden but ready to run if need be, and listens for Galion as he runs past them. His footsteps echo down the hall, and she feels Legolas slip from their hiding spot with her in tow before they are running again, in the opposite direction.

"Come back here, you pair of goblins!" Galion calls, his voice echoing down the hall.

"Never!" Legolas calls over a shoulder, and Tauriel grins like a fool as they take another corner. Two turns later, Tauriel has completely lost track of their location in the palace. They stumble into what sounds like an open area, and Legolas hesitates for a second before pulling her off to one side. The creak of a turning doorknob reaches her ears, and then the prince lets her wrist go.

"Hide here," Legolas whispers, shoving her into what smells like a spice cellar, "I will draw him off."

Tauriel gets no time to protest as Legolas firmly closes the door and she hears him scamper away. It is only another second until she hears Galion, however, and she holds her breath in anticipation.

The door does not open, the footsteps moving away from her but not far, and Tauriel tilts her head as she hears Legolas shout something from a distance. She hears Galion's voice as well, but cannot make out what he is saying, so she edges closer and presses her ear to the door to listen.

"You can't spank me, I'm a prince!" Legolas' muffled voice comes from somewhere out in the room, although she cannot pinpoint him through the heavy wood.

"I don't care if you're a prince, I'm going to tan your hide!" the older elf calls back, and Tauriel has to take a slow breath to stem her laughter.

"You'll have to catch me first!"

"I've already caught you - you have nowhere else to go."

"I can wait here all day."

"Legolas, you will get down here this _instant_!"

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"Then I suppose I will have to inform your father about why exactly his elk was shaved half bald last spring."

"Galion, you traitor! You promised never to speak of that again!"

Tauriel can no longer contain her laughter, even with both hands covering her mouth, and a few small giggles escape.

Out in the room, Galion stops mid-threat. "Now hold on, what do we have here?"

Footsteps rapidly approach, and Tauriel turns to try and scramble deeper into the cellar. She has just barely begun climbing over what feels like a crate when the door is thrown open behind her.

"Got you!"

Tauriel yelps as she is grabbed from behind, feeling herself hoisted in the air for a second before she is tossed rather unceremoniously over a shoulder. Being moved in such a way is incredibly disorienting, and Tauriel is too dizzy to run when she is briefly set on her feet again.

It does not matter, however, because a second later she finds herself sprawled across what she can only assume is Galion's lap, as if he is about to give _her_ a spanking.

"W-wait, Galion!" she yelps.

"If I can't catch the prince, I will settle for his partner in crime."

"Galion, you wouldn't hit someone who was blind," she pleads as he pins her across his lap.

"Watch me," is the growled reply. Tauriel can feel the dampness of his robes beneath her, and despite her precarious position she cannot help a hysterical little giggle at the mental image of Galion completely soaked with water and looking like a very irritated and half-drowned rat. "Oh, you won't think it's so funny in a few minutes," Galion mutters, and she feels him draw an arm back for the swing.

"No, no, no, wait-!" she cries, twisting in his hold and struggling to get free as she tries to stall for time.

"Beg all you want, you won't change my mind."

"Legolas!" she yelps as he pins her more firmly.

Galion's hand lands on her backside but the blow is light, the strike pulled at the last second.

It is enough to lure the Prince, however.

"Galion, over here!" Legolas calls from somewhere to her left, but Tauriel doesn't have a chance to hear the reply. She hears the splash a second before she is suddenly doused with a frigid wetness that soaks her through and leaves her gasping.

"Legolas!" she cries, appalled, as Galion laughs.

"You need to work on your aim, my Prince. Although, seeing as you have come down off the cabinets..."

Tauriel finds herself suddenly sitting on the floor, soaked through, with Legolas and Galion in a scuffle somewhere off to her left. She lifts her arms, feeling the new weight of her soaked clothing as she wrinkles her nose in distaste.

Her bloody luck with water...

The sound of the scuffle gets closer, Legolas protesting loudly as Galion laughs, and Tauriel is debating whether to help or simply leave Legolas to his fate when she hears a door open behind her.

"What on earth is all of the commotion in here?" Thranduil's voice demands, and the sound of the struggle ceases at once.

"Ada, help me!" Legolas cries, and for a long moment no one makes a sound.

Tauriel can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as the silence draws out, and can only assume that Thranduil is looking over the scene in disapproval. After another moment, there is a long sigh from the king.

"Legolas, you have been home for a _week_ ," Thranduil says in exasperation, and Tauriel can almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It was not my fault!"

"My _foot_ it wasn't your fault, you little-"

"Ada, who are you going to believe? Galion or your own son?"

"You forget, _ionneg_ ," Thranduil starts before Galion can say anything, and Tauriel hears his footsteps approaching as his voice gets closer. "You are my beloved child, whom I have raised from birth. You should know by now that I fully trust you...to be causing trouble."

Galion snorts out a laugh as Legolas scoffs.

She hears the shift of cloth as Thranduil turns, most likely to face her.

"And Tauriel, really-"

"I was just doing as Prince Legolas told me," she replies, widening her eyes.

Legolas lets out a rather undignified squawk, and she has to bite her tongue to keep herself from smiling and ruining her "innocent" expression.

"Oh, sure, throw _me_ to the wargs!" the prince says.

"You doused me with frigid water!" she argues.

"I was aiming for Galion!"

"Well you missed!"

"Children," Thranduil interrupts sharply, and the pair of them quiet down. "As you clearly cannot be trusted to behave yourselves indoors, might I suggest we go for a walk? A very, very long walk," he adds a bit more sternly, and Tauriel ducks her head in ascent, trying not to smile. Thranduil's footsteps retreat toward the door, and she hears a brief scramble as Galion and Legolas detangle themselves.

"There, see?" Legolas says. "We're going for a walk. You cannot spank me."

"I'm sure the walk can wait," Thranduil's voice drawls from the doorway, and Tauriel hears Legolas' horrified cry of "Ada!"

A second later the prince brushes up beside her, dragging her to her feet and taking her wrist to pull her along after him.

"No. No, it cannot wait. We are going for a walk now before it gets dark. Tauriel needs to dry off in the sun."

Tauriel follows him sheepishly, hearing Thranduil mutter an apology to Galion as they pass. The other elf, in turn, laughs it off.

"It is good to have them in such high spirits, My Lord. And it has been ages since I've done anything this exciting. Do not worry yourself. I take no offense."

Tauriel cannot help her little smile as Legolas tugs her along briskly, Thranduil falling into step behind them and grumbling good naturedly.

This was fun.

The last time she and Legolas had actually _played_ together had been decades - if not centuries - ago. Her heart is still pounding in her throat, her blood singing as it rushes through her veins, and she lets her smile blossom into a full grin.

"I missed you," she mutters, nudging Legolas affectionately.

"And I you, _mellon_."

"And I had forgotten how peaceful it was without the two of you running around causing problems," Thranduil growls from behind them, but there is a hint of teasing in his tone, and Tauriel can hear the smile in his voice. He is not truly upset with them.

"Admit it, you missed this too," Legolas teases.

"I will admit no such thing."

"But neither does he deny it," Legolas whispers to her, and Tauriel snickers.

"Go get your gear, troublemakers," Thranduil says in fond exasperation behind them, and the two of them scamper off to do so, laughing.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I am still determined to have this finished by New Year's, even if it kills me. I will try to go back to posting every Friday. Happy exams, everyone! I have given you reason to procrastinate!


	29. Chapter 29

Legolas weaves between bushes, constantly glancing back to be sure that Tauriel is not having trouble following him. She is doggedly tracing his steps, however, one hand caught up in the trailing end of his shirt.

Her bow is slung over an arm, her hair still wet at the bottom and sticking together from where he accidentally soaked her instead of Galion, and he can't help a fond smile.

His father is in the lead, making his way toward some unannounced destination. The king will occasionally stop to glance back at them with a raised eyebrow, waiting patiently until they have caught up before turning once more and leading them into the woods.

Legolas ducks around a branch, holding it out of the way for Tauriel to pass before letting it swing back in a hiss of leaves. She steps up alongside him, tilting her head as a bird calls from the bushes nearby, and Legolas pauses with her to listen. The birds in Rivendell are different from the ones at home, and it is a bit surprising how used to the different whistling songs he has become in such a relatively short period of time.

The lack of sky is another thing that he notices most sharply. What used to be a sheltered green haven for the archer now feels near claustrophobic with the way that the trees close in overtop of them. The towering oaks feel too close together, crowded and stuffy and tangled as they fight each other for every scrap of light that filters down from the canopy. But now is not the time to dwell on that.

Legolas shakes his head and sets off after his father again, trailing Tauriel behind him.

He keeps his eyes sharp as they walk, looking for roots or fallen branches that Tauriel might stumble upon as he guides her carefully around a briar patch, making sure to give enough room so that her clothing will not catch on the thorns.

She continues to pause as they walk, he notices, glancing off into the woods or up into the rustling canopy, and occasionally he can hear the sound that caught her attention, but for the most part she seems to be noticing sounds that he cannot distinguish from the forest's peaceful lull.

"Legolas, what was it like in Ilmadris?" Tauriel asks him at length, taking him by surprise. "Was it as beautiful as we imagined as children?"

"Even more so, _mellon_. The city practically shines," he replies, letting his thoughts dart back to Lord Elrond's kingdom fondly. "The water is so clear that you can see the bottom no matter how deep the stream runs, and the forces of evil dare not rear their heads near that grand kingdom."

Legolas hesitates a second when he sees a slight flinch from his father.

It dawns on him then that the Greenwood had once been as beautiful as the other elven city, perhaps even more so, but it has been darkened over the years by the encroaching evil that they cannot seem to drive away. Legolas swallows, wondering if his excited praise of Rivendell's beauty has upset his father, whose own kingdom seems to be falling apart around them.

He is not paying attention to where he is going, however, and is taken by surprise when his next step takes him into a stray line of thick cobweb, which strains taught across his throat for a second before snapping. Legolas' startled yelp quickly turns into a cough from the sudden pressure, his hands scrambling in disgust to remove the sticky trail from his skin, and he feels Tauriel leaning close in concern.

"Legolas?"

"I'm fine," he chokes out. "Walked into a cobweb."

Tauriel's lips pull up into a smirk, and Legolas doesn't get the chance to preemptively shut her up before she comments "goodness, and here I thought that I was the blind one," and he is forced to retaliate in order to save what little of his pride remains.

Their brief scuffle ends with her holding two fistfuls of his hair in a near-painful grip and him tormenting her sides with his fingers where he knows she is most ticklish until she is gasping for breath.

"Come along, children," Thranduil calls back to them, and Legolas lets out a breathy chuckle as he turns to follow, brushing his fingers along Tauriel's shoulder to guide her. He feels her touch trace down his arm to latch onto the edge of his tunic once more, and sets off after his father.

She is muttering from behind him, just loud enough for him to make out a few choice words likening him to an orc's backside, but she can't keep the smile from her face.

"Ada," he calls instead of dignifying her comment with a reply. "Where are we going?"

His father slows his pace, allowing the two younger elves to catch up to him before falling into step a pace in front of Legolas.

"We are simply circling the palace. Getting you two out of poor Galion's hair for a while."

"What, you didn't have anything interesting to show us?" Legolas pouts.

"Aren't you both a bit old for nature walks?" the king asks dryly, rolling his eyes when Legolas and Tauriel reply "no" in sync.

"Perhaps I will show you both out to the stream," he quips. "Let you walk Tauriel along the edge and see how long it takes the pair of you to wind up in the water."

"I've already been soaked once today, I've hit my quota," Tauriel says, shaking her head with a grin. "Feel free to push Legolas in, however."

"I could walk you into a tree," he threatens.

She replies with a big grin, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment affectionately.

They continue in silence from there, Tauriel falling back to trail in his footsteps once more as his father carefully picks his way through the trees up front, seeking out the easiest path for her.

He is only just starting to let himself relax when he feels Tauriel stop up short.

Her hand leaves his shirt, startling him out of his thoughts, and there is a sharp rustle of movement behind him.

"My Lord!"

Legolas turns to see Tauriel with her bow drawn, aiming at something out in the forest. To his surprise, Thranduil stops, walks back to where she stands, and leans down until his cheek is all but pressed to hers, sighting along her arrow. He reaches up, two fingers extended, and angles her shot a bit further to the left.

"There."

The word has barely left his mouth when Tauriel releases her arrow. It whistles through the trees and Legolas is shocked when not half a second later the dying squeal of a spider breaks the evening calm.

His mind can't quite seem to process words properly, so Legolas simply stands and watches as Thranduil offers brief congratulations to Tauriel for noticing the spider, followed by near twenty corrections on her stance. Tauriel takes the corrections with a bowed head that hides her broad grin from his view, but if the smile his father has on is any indication, then he is quite pleased with her.

Thranduil moves to take point once more, and Legolas catches the hand that Tauriel reaches out toward him, falling into step at her side.

"That was quite impressive," he tells her once he can find his voice, and she smiles up at him.

"Your father has been a most patient tutor."

"Has he really?"

She stifles a laugh, pressing the back of her hand to her lips until she regains her composure.

"Well, he did threaten to throw pinecones at me until I could shoot them out of the air before they hit..."

"You were being especially difficult that day," his father's voice drifts back to them, though he does not turn around. "You had already put three holes in my best robe."

"Serves you right for wearing it to the practice field," Tauriel grouses from behind him, and Legolas cannot help but burst out laughing.

His father tries to hold his scowl but ultimately fails, and Legolas smiles to see an easy grin spread across the older elf's face.

"I'll have you know you have also managed to destroy the hem on my court robe."

"I cannot be blamed for that," Tauriel says with a poorly hidden smirk. "You could see the candle, and I could not."

"Surely even you could smell it burning."

"I was too busy trying to figure out why you were screaming."

"I did not scream," his father sniffs in disdain. "I shouted in surprise."

"He definitely screamed," Tauriel whispers to Legolas conspiringly, nodding, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the expression that crosses his father's face.

"You know...I could tell my son why exactly his practice bow has that crack in it..." Thranduil hums.

"Is it getting dark? I think it's getting dark," Tauriel says quickly. "We should go back inside before nightfall."

Legolas snorts at that, taking her hand once more, and tugs her along after him.

The tension that had been present between the three of them for so many centuries is gone, and it is like when they were children again - the pair of them following at his father's heels on a walk through the forest, Tauriel trailing in his footsteps with her hand in his.

Legolas wishes idly that it will never end.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I totally know what day of the week it is. Herp-a-derp. Sorry for being late!


	30. Chapter 30

"Must you leave again, so soon?" Tauriel asks, pleading clear in her voice. Legolas lets out a sigh and gathers her hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.

"There is a great darkness coming, Tauriel. I must do what I can to stop it."

"Be careful," she demands, and Legolas gathers her close and presses his lips to her forehead before he murmurs "I will."

They cling to one another, pressed tight enough to feel the other's heart beating, and Legolas is reluctant to let her go. When he had left after the Battle of the Five Armies - as most have taken to calling the desperate fight for Erebor against the orcs - they had barely said a word to one another. She had been lost in grief, and he had been hurt and angry. Now they have reconciled, and parting again hurts him as much as severing a limb.

"You take care of yourself as well," he says, "you and _Ada_ , look after each other until I get back."

"We will."

The two of them are silent for a long moment, and Legolas finds himself with a hundred things he wants to say but no words to fit any of them. Tauriel somehow finds her voice first, clearing her throat with a forced little cough.

"Well," Tauriel breathes, "I suppose this is it, then."

"Yes."

"Goodbye, my friend."

"Goodbye, Tauriel."

Legolas draws her into another hug, pressing a kiss to her temple as he feels her thread her hands through his hair. They stay like that for a long moment, their hearts beating against each other's chest as Legolas feels his eyes well up with tears.

He doesn't want to let go.

He has to, though, and after allowing himself only a moment more to hold her, he steps away. Tauriel lets her hands fall slowly back to her side, looking as upset as he feels.

Legolas forces a smile out of habit, even though she cannot see it, and begins to walk away, his footsteps hollow in the large room.

"Legolas?" Tauriel calls as he reaches the door.

He stops, one hand on the frame as he glances back at her over his shoulder.

She is standing alone in the middle of the room, her hair flame-bright in the morning sun that filters in through the windows and her pale eyes focused unfailingly on him. She is every inch as radiant and fierce as ever, but he can almost feel the ache in her heart at having to say goodbye to another that she loves, possibly forever.

She is a far cry from the helpless, orphaned child that his father brought back to the palace centuries ago, but he still wants to protect her. To hold her close and tell her that everything will be okay even if it's a lie. She is his little sister and his best friend. He has held her hand as she grew up, and fought in her defense as she fell down. She has helped cover him in armor and in bandages and in fancy robes for ceremonies that both of them planned to sneak out of, and they have slept and fought and played and _lived_ at each other's side for as long as he can remember. Leaving her again feels like leaving half of himself behind.

But he cannot be with her now. She can no longer guard his back. They must part ways, perhaps for good, and he wants to cry at the thought of them both surviving through so much against all odds only to be cast apart now, possibly forever.

But he has to be strong.

Not for her - she is holding her own with nerves of steel despite the tears glistening along her lower lashes - but for himself, so he can find the will somewhere inside of him to walk away without looking back.

"Yes, Tauriel?" he asks at length, his voice soft with affection and a dull sadness as he memorizes every detail he can of her, hoping this is not the last time they will be together.

She is silent for a long moment, her throat working as she swallows her own emotions and picks her words, but then her mouth quirks up into a familiar, troublemaking smirk that is only a little bit forced, and his heart throbs.

"Send 'em back to Morgoth in pieces for me," she demands, fingers ghosting to her side where her blade would normally be kept. Legolas grins back at her through his tears, placing a hand over his heart even though she cannot see it.

"I will be sure to. Take care, _mellon_ , until I see you again."

"Until we meet again."

With that, Legolas turns and does not look back.

* * *

Thranduil looks up sharply as he catches a whisper of movement from the doorway.

Tauriel is standing there, her blind eyes glassy with tears. A single strand of her hair is stuck to her face, curling a loop through the glistening saline running down her cheeks before falling clumsily across her chest. She looks nearly as broken as when he found her atop Ravenhill.

"Tauriel," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly at the end, but he doesn't bother to hide his sorrow from her. She of all people is aware of the pain he feels, which is why he doesn't send her away. "Come here, child."

She crosses the room, stopping just before him, and he reaches out to catch her hands in his. A gentle tug is all it takes to sit her down on the corner of the throne at his side, and he hugs her close as a sob racks her frame.

"Will he be okay?" she asks, clinging to him, her voice tiny and pleading. "Will he come back?"

It is a long moment until Thranduil can answer, his throat choked with emotion.

"I do not know."

"Will we _ever_ see him again?" she begs, and Thranduil can do nothing but hold her tight in silence.

He does not know.

He does not dare answer.

Legolas is all he has left of his family in this world, and the thought that he has just bid him farewell for the last time is enough to steal his breath and send grief stabbing through his already-shattered heart.

There is a great evil coming, he can no longer deny that. His son has been called to the forefront of the battle, to fight against one of the most powerful forces in Middle Earth, and he is terrified for him.

Tauriel seems to sense his distress and sorrow, and after a moment - in a surprisingly bold move - she climbs to sit in his lap with her arms twined around his neck. He can feel her trembling as he puts his arms around her, but her voice does not waver when she next speaks.

"He'll be okay. He has to be."

Thranduil takes a shuddering breath as he tucks Tauriel's head beneath his chin, feeling tears burn a hot trail from his eyes to his jaw, where they fall into her red hair. How he wishes he could believe her.

"He has to be," she whispers again, clinging to him.

Thranduil just strokes her hair in silence as the two of them mourn.


	31. Chapter 31

"Idiot," Thranduil mutters, and Tauriel winces as she feels him dab at her cheek.

"In my defense, it was not supposed to have done that."

"You should have known better than to try practicing without my knowledge."

"The bowstring would have snapped whether you had been there or not," Tauriel tries to argue, but Thranduil responds by loudly splashing more alcohol onto the cloth and pressing it firmly to her bleeding cheek. She hisses at the sting, trying to flinch away, but he simply catches a hand around the back of her head to prevent her from moving.

"Hold still."

"It burns!"

"Yes. Now hold still."

Tauriel makes a small, complaining noise in the back of her throat but does at he tells her. She can feel the lazy drip of blood down her jaw, as well as the ache where the string struck her across her cheek - a long mark that she is sure will turn into a bruise over the next few days. Reflexively the thought that she is lucky the string did not get her in the eye comes to her, but after a moment's consideration, she realizes how stupid a thought it is and dismisses it with a little snort.

"-can't let you out of my sight for _two_ _minutes_ ," Thranduil is grouching, his movements sharp with irritation but still gentle as he wipes the blood from her face.

"Half an hour," she mutters rebelliously, and is rewarded with a sharp tug to one of the dangling locks of her hair. "Ow!"

"You should know better! How many times have I told you that you are not to go to the practice field alone?"

Tauriel chooses not to answer that question, instead reaching to prod at the numb spot on her cheek, testing how swollen it is. Thranduil catches her wrist and brings her hand firmly back to her lap.

"Do not touch it. It has only just stopped bleeding."

She huffs a breath in frustration, weaving her fingers together and trying not to fidget. Thranduil continues muttering to himself as he moves away from her to fiddle with something on the little end table at the edge of the room.

After a long moment Tauriel takes the opportunity to run her fingers lightly over her face, feeling for how bad the damage is.

She can feel where the skin is split, the crust of dried blood rough and crumbly along the length of it, and frowns a little as she traces her finger from just below her eye down to almost her jaw, following it.

The cut is a lot longer than she expected it to be.

Tauriel traces the split back to the top, trying to gauge how wide it is.

"Hands in your lap," Thranduil snaps, making her startle a bit in surprise, and she is quick to do as he says when she hears footsteps approach. "I don't need you splitting that cut open again," he scolds, and a second later she feels cool fingers against her face, tilting her head.

"I was being gentle," she argues, but lets it drop when he says her name warningly. She is already in enough trouble.

Thranduil spreads something pasty and cool across her cheek, carefully coating the wound, and Tauriel resists the urge to move.

"There. That should help it heal. So long as you leave it be, that is," he scolds lightly.

She mutters "yes My Lord" like she is humoring him.

Thranduil straightens with a sigh, and she feels his fingers brush her shoulder a second later, to guide her to her feet.

"My bow will need to be re-strung," she says as she stands, but Thranduil merely snorts.

"Not for a good long while, it won't. You are forbidden from using it for the next two weeks."

"Two weeks?" she cries before she can think better of it, whirling to face where his voice had come from.

"If not longer."

"That's not fair!"

"What did I tell you when I agreed to let you learn to fight again? Do you remember the deal we made?" Thranduil asks calmly.

Tauriel bites her lip at that, letting her head hang. She doesn't move as she listens to the king gather up her bow and quiver from the floor behind her.

"I will hold on to this," he informs her a moment later, tone gentle but firm. "Go back to your room, and try to sleep for a while. I will check your wound again later."

"Yes, my Lord," she mutters, forcing herself not to slink from the room.

She feels like a scolded child.

In the background she can hear him set her bow down on one of the shelves, and makes note of it as she walks away.

* * *

Tauriel never learns.

That is something that Thranduil is coming to accept as he sits on his throne for the fifth day in a row "reading" as he watches her poke about the throne room.

She is clever, and very thorough, but she never learns.

Thranduil watches her run her fingers along the underside of the table and tries not to smirk. She has been looking for her bow for the past few days when she thinks he is not paying attention.

She has certainly been clever about it, he's noticed. The day after he'd taken it she had offered to clean the place up a bit (which was rather ridiculous because she could not see to dust or arrange books in order) and had spent the rest of the afternoon working over the shelves with a rag, her hands wandering into every nook and cranny where an unstrung bow might be hidden.

The following day she'd made a few laps of the room over the course of the afternoon, subtly tracing her fingers over things when she thought he was not looking.

In the days after that she'd become less subtle as her frustration and confusion got the better of her, searching for her bow.

He plans to give it back to her, of course, once she's learned some semblance of a lesson about sneaking off to practice on her own, but until then he is keeping it safely out of her reach.

"You're not going to find it," he calls to her at length, and Tauriel jumps a bit in surprise.

"Find what?" she asks immediately, blinking up at him.

"Your bow."

Her innocent look fades into a scowl, and she lets out a huff of breath as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Who says that's what I'm looking for?"

"Have you lost anything else recently?" he counters, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Thranduil bites back a smile at her pout.

"I have hidden it well out of your reach, and somewhere that you would not think to look. Don't waste your time searching for it."

Tauriel scowls a little in frustration, moving to sit at his side.

He reaches a hand out to smooth her hair back as she settles herself comfortably beside him, and Tauriel lets out a huff of breath.

"I will find it, sooner or later," she mutters rebelliously.

Thranduil strokes her hair again, brushing it away from the closing wound on her cheek.

"Whatever you would like to think, little one."

With a smile, Thranduil tilts his head back to look up at the top of his throne, where Tauriel's bow is balanced between two of the twisting branches just above his head.

"Whatever you would like to think."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I totally know what day of the week it is. Totally.

(Was at a convention and lost track of time tbh...)


	32. Chapter 32

The bustling of people through the halls and around the throne room is dizzying, and she can barely keep track of everyone calling her name.

"Tauriel?"

"Tauriel!"

Everyone is talking at once, and Tauriel's head is spinning as she jumps from one conversation to the next, answering questions as best she can.

"Yes, the East Hall has been cleared for the celebration. Last I heard, Faelwen was taking charge of that. Lord Thranduil said to start bringing the Dorwinion up early. Dinner is planned for nightfall. No, I absolutely did _not_ give permission for him to do that! Make sure you double check that order before you sent it out. Where is Gallion? Tell the band to begin playing as soon as the feast starts. Can someone go and check that the guard has been notified of the change of plans? _No_ , I don't know if that cloth is the right color, I can't _see_!"

Tauriel turns, catching a quick breath as she feels people shift around her, leaving to arrange the festival, but she doesn't have long before she is once again bombarded with questions.

"What should we do with the flowers?"

"Shall we set up viewing platforms on the terrace, or in the garden?"

"Did the King say what cloak he wanted prepared for this evening?"

"Tauriel!" Alassé's voice cuts through the crowd, startling her into turning. "Tauriel! Come on, we have to get you ready!"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming! I've just got to-"

"No, you have to come _now_ or you won't be ready in time for the feast!"

A hand closes insistently around her arm, and Tauriel finds herself getting tugged away mid-conversation.

"Flowers go in the halls, set up viewing in the garden, and Lord Thranduil said to use the silver one," Tauriel calls as Alassé hauls her off. "Don't forget to tell the cellar-masters to bring up the wine early or they'll be too drunk to haul the barrels up the stairs later!"

"Tauriel, they'll be fine," Alassé laughs. "They've been preparing this feast every year for centuries. Really, they can manage without you for half an hour."

Tauriel lets out a sigh, following the other elf through the halls.

"I know, I know. It's just…this is the first thing that Lord Thranduil has trusted me to manage on my own since I became his assistant. I want it all to be perfect," she shrugs.

"I've noticed. You've been working yourself to death over this."

"I'm the King's advisor-"

"And you need to look the part too, right?" Alassé prompts, a smile in her tone. "Which means you can't very well show up for the feast with messy braids and work clothes on!"

Tauriel is pulled off into a side room, and it takes her a long second to realize that Alassé has dragged her all the way back to her chambers as she is pointedly seated on the bed with a little bounce.

"Which outfit did you want to wear?" the other elf's voice calls, the sound muffled as she rustles through what Tauriel can only assume is her closet.

"I don't know. You pick," Tauriel calls back, wringing her hands in her lap impatiently. "I need to get back to the throne room before-"

"Relax, would you?" Alassé laughs, her voice getting fractionally louder as she approaches. "This is a celebration! Have fun! Now, let's find you an outfit. How does the dark blue silk dress sound?"

A little throb of emotion aches in Tauriel's chest before she can smother it back, and her voice is hoarse when she replies "no blue" in a whisper.

Alassé is quiet for a second, and Tauriel swallows hard as she very pointedly pushes the memory of a tattered, cobweb-coated tunic in Durin blue to the back of her mind.

"Okay…then how about the green?" Alassé asks, her chipper tone only a little bit forced.

"Green is fine," Tauriel replies, trying to smile for the other elf's sake.

"Well, hurry up and get dressed, then. We still have to do your hair!"

Tauriel does as she is told, obediently letting Alassé dress her up as she tries to stay chipper.

This is the first Mereth Nuin Giliath she will be celebrating since losing Kili.

She's been trying very hard not to think about that fact, burying herself in any task that Thranduil will give her with full enthusiasm, but now that all the planning is done she has nothing to distract her.

The sadness has been creeping up on her all day, and she had been ignoring it as best she could up until now, but as Alassé takes her by the arm and leads her into the main hall where the feast is going on, she can no longer run from it.

Everyone around her is laughing and joyous.

And she just feels hollow.

A year.

It has been a year since she first met her dwarven prince and wondered if there was perhaps something for her beyond the forest borders. Since she learned of runestones and fire-moons and what love – true love – felt like.

Since she lost everything.

It doesn't take long before her emotions start to get the better of her, and she slips away from the celebration, her feet taking her down to the dungeons.

As Tauriel once again finds herself standing outside of Kili's cell, fingering the runestone in her pocket, she takes a second to consider just how many times she's found herself standing here. Not making her way through the forest where they first met, or itching to go to Laketown where she cured his wound, or even atop the cold mountaintop where she saw him last - but here in Thranduil's dungeons. Where he'd first looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and that beautiful smile, staring like she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

Tauriel lets out a slow breath, her hands clasped around the cold metal bars. She can remember standing here, looking down into a pair of gentle brown eyes as - for reasons unknown - she explained the Feast of Starlight to a creature of the earth. She remembers the wonder in his eyes as he stared up at her like he was seeing the stars for the first time, right there in that dingy little prison-

The memory brings tears to her sightless eyes, and a sob catches hard in her throat as she lets herself sink to the floor.

The tears that have been building over the past week finally overflow, and Tauriel lets her head hang as she cries, feeling the weight of the braid that Alassé had woven I her hair tugging at the red locks.

She misses Kili.

* * *

She doesn't know how long she stays there, but her tears have nearly run dry by the time the soft, shuffling hiss of uneven footsteps catches her attention.

"Tauriel?"

Thranduil's gentle call of her name, his words slurred rather heavily with drink, draws Tauriel from her misery enough to reply.

"My Lord?" she asks softly.

The rustling of robes accompanies Thranduil crouching beside her, and Tauriel catches the heady scent of Dorwinion on his breath as he speaks.

"Why are you crying, child?"

He's been drinking for a while, that much is clear.

He, like most wood elves, tended to over-indulge at celebrations, and Mereth Nuin Giliath was no exception. (Not that her king ever needed an excuse to drink.)

He is plastered.

"Memories," she whispers with a shrug, smoothing her hands along the length of her gown just to have something to do with them.

Thranduil hums a little noise in consideration, and Tauriel feels the clumsy stroke of his hand over her head a moment later, repeating the motion a few times before he scoops one of her hands into his.

"Come now," he murmurs, drawing her to her feet. "Mereth Nuin Giliath is a time for joy, not tears."

Tauriel smudges a hand across her cheeks, nodding, but is surprised to feel a pair of arms wrap around her a second later, drawing her into a hug.

"My Lord?" she asks hesitantly as he all but cuddles her to his chest.

"Don't look so sad," he scolds lightly. "It's depressing."

"My Lord, you're drunk."

"Yes I am," he replies without an ounce of shame. "Come upstairs, get drunk with me."

Tauriel can't help a laugh at that, the sound still a little choked with tears, and she feels Thranduil press a clumsy kiss to her forehead.

"Have you left any wine for the rest of us?" she asks, half guiding him back toward the stairs and biting back a comment about letting the blind lead.

"I'm sure I could scrounge up a glass or two. Even if I have to take it from someone else."

Tauriel smiles, shaking her head.

"If you insist, My Lord."

"I do."


	33. Chapter 33

Tauriel follows the sound of a soft moan to Lord Thranduil's bedside, carefully feeling her path with her feet so as not to trip while she balances a tray in her hands.

"My Lord?" she asks. A miserable groan is her only reply, and Tauriel carefully feels her way over to the dresser to set the tray down. "My Lord, I brought you some water and a tincture for headaches. Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Too bright," the hung-over elf mutters, and she hears a shift of motion from the bed that she can only assume is him burying his head beneath the covers.

"I'll see what I can do, My Lord."

Trying to keep a smile off her face, she turns and makes her way to the window, stumbling over a few items in the unfamiliar room. It is not often that she is permitted entry into the King's personal chambers, but she has been in here often enough as a child, playing with Legoas, that she can figure out the general layout. His bed is in the center of the room – she used to hide beneath it while Legolas searched the room for her, pretending he didn't know where she was. The door to the room is off to the left, the wall behind the headboard and to the right of the bed both windowless, and there is one large pane in the center of the remaining wall that overlooks the gardens. Tauriel makes her way in that direction as best she can to close over the blinds as she hears Thranduil let out another grumble of complaint.

When she reaches the window, however, groping along the wall until she locates it, she finds that the curtains are already drawn.

"My Lord…the room should already be dark," she says mildly, biting back a laugh.

The king mutters something intelligible from beneath the covers, and Tauriel picks her way back to his bedside.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she says softly, leaning over him with a smile.

"I said it's always dark for you," Thranduil mutters foul-temperedly. "So how would you know?"

"Now, now," Tauriel chides, trying to resist her rapidly widening smile. "Be nice. Otherwise I'll take that headache tincture right back."

"…cruel child."

"It's your own fault for drinking so much," she scolds, running her fingers lightly across the covers until they find the threads of her King's silken hair and trace them back to where his head is buried beneath the pillow. "And to think, you tried to get me this drunk as well. What kind of a sorry state would we be in if I had allowed that?"

"If I recall, you were more than willing to consume it, had we not run out."

"Fortunate for your hangover that I didn't, hm?" she grins.

"Don't pretend like you have the moral high ground here. As soon as I can stand again – and once the sound of my own voice no longer gives me a headache – you are going to hear it from me."

Tauriel hums out a little amused sound, smoothing the covers across her King's prone form.

"Well, My Lord, as much as I'm sure you want to sleep for the rest of the day, I do have to inform you that it's far past mid-morning, and you are needed."

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"Oh, I could attempt to write out the trade contracts, I'm sure," she says, and she can't quite keep the wicked smile from her face as she continues. "The question would be whether or not anyone else would be able to read them once I had finished."

Her King lets out a long, complaining groan, and she hears the covers shift as he rolls over.

"You're a smart girl, Tauriel, I'm sure you can think of something… Oh, my head…"

Tauriel takes a second to locate the headache tincture she brought and offer it out in the direction that she last heard his voice. A long few seconds later he manages to grab it.

"How much?" he asks groggily.

"It should say on the bottle. The healers always write down the concentration."

"…can't read it."

"Perhaps a bit of light to see by?" Tauriel asks, turning in the direction of the window with a smile.

"Don't you _dare_ …" he threatens weakly from behind her and Tauriel feels a clumsy hand latch onto the sleeve of her tunic.

"Just an offer, my Lord."

"Stop offering to torture me and get back here."

Tauriel does as she is bid, returning to the bedside as she listens to her king mumble over the hasty script that is sketched on the side of the bottle. He must figure it out (or simply stop caring) because a second later she hears him uncorking the little bottle and pouring some into the glass of water that she brought him. He takes a few long swallows before setting the glass back on the dresser a bit heavily.

"Why did you let me drink so much…" he moans after another moment, the sound muffled by the rustling of cloth as he throws back the covers.

"Because the last feast that I tried to cut you off, you threatened to have me stuffed in an empty wine barrel and thrown into the river."

"I did not."

"You most certainly did," Tauriel replies, daring to sit at the foot of his bed as she listens to him struggle to his feet. "If you don't believe me, ask Feren. He was the one you ordered to fetch a wine barrel big enough to hold me."

"...I didn't actually have you thrown into the river, did I?"

"You thought you did," Tauriel replies with a smile. "Feren marched me out of the room, and we hid in the hall for ten minutes or so to make you think we'd gone down to the river. He even poured a glass of water over my head before I came back in so I would look wet."

"I really don't remember that at all…"

"Well, you were asleep in your throne by the time we got back, so we didn't really get to see your reaction, but Gallon about threw a fit thinking we'd actually done it."

Tauriel tracks the sound of Thranduil's movements as he stumbles his way around the room trying to get ready, turning her head to follow his progress.

She hears him dig for a moment in what she thinks is the closet, and a few seconds later she hears something that sounds a bit like cloth hitting the floor.

"What are you staring at?" her king asks defensively after a moment, and Tauriel forces an innocent look as she does her best not to smile.

"Does it really matter?"

"Don't get smart with me, miss," he chides, his voice muffled as the sounds of him struggling his way into a tunic reach her ears. "I know you're sitting over there, cheerfully listening to me undress."

"You are the one who decided to strip without letting me know first," she counters.

"I will have you know that I was not completely nude."

"That's a reassurance," she says, pausing for good measure before adding "I would not want to be scarred for life."

An indignant squawk and the sound of a sharp movement from Thranduil are her only warning before something soft hits her in the face, tangling around her head and arms as she flails in reaction.

"I am _very_ attractive, you impudent little-"

The rest of his complaint is muttered too low for her to make out the words as she untangles herself from what feels like his bed robe and folds it into a sloppy lump to place on his pillow.

"There. I am ready," his voice calls a moment later. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes," Tauriel grins, standing. "Very."

"Good. Now go away and let me sleep."

Tauriel laughs at that, picking her way over to Thranduil's side.

"You need to do those trade agreements, then you can go back to bed."

"I really don't give an orc's ass about those trade agreements right now."

She smiles, groping for his hand, and begins leading him out of the room once she's secured her grip about his wrist.

"Come on then, you mal-tempered old grouch," Tauriel teases. "I'll fetch you some tea and something to eat."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood. The next time you wake me from a hangover I'll-"

"It will be Gallion's turn next time," Tauriel cuts him off with a smile. "So he will have to deal with you, not me."

"You make it sound like a chore."

"I wouldn't call it a _chore_ , per se," Tauriel hums, a cheery spring in her step as she leads the way to the throne room with her king trudging behind her. "More of a chance to torment you under the pretense of being helpful."

"…I knew you were evil."

"At least I didn't wake you by pouring ice water over your head."

From behind her, the king lets out a shuddering "ugh" of disgust.

"I could still kill Gallion for that, you know."

"I'm sure. I do recall hearing that you threw something at him, though."

"It was a pillow. And I missed."

"A shame."

Tauriel slows her pace as she gets closer to where the doors to the throne room are, and Thranduil takes the lead, letting her trail happily in his footsteps as he drags himself into the room and up to the dias.

She waits patiently as she hears him settle himself atop the throne, muttering complaints and curses the whole time.

"You said something about fetching tea?" he asks after a moment, and Tauriel darts off with a grin, just as someone else is entering the room.

"I see you managed to drag his royal pain-in-the-ass out of bed," Gallion's voice observes mildly, and Tauriel pauses to throw him a grin.

"I've done my share. Now you get to convince him to actually be useful."

"Oh joy."

Tauriel slips out of the room, trying not to giggle as she hears her king's exclamation of "What in Eru's name is that stack of papers?! You said a trade agreement!" echoing down the hall.

It is definitely going to be a long day.

With that in mind, Tauriel makes sure to grab her King an extra helping of his favorite breakfast pastries while she is in the kitchen waiting on his tea to steep.

After all, she's going to be stuck with him once his hangover wears off, and a little bribery never hurts when trying to dodge a lecture about mouthing off to her king.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I kinda got busy with baking things and didn't realize what day of the week it was. Again. I'm getting really bad about that, aren't I? Anyhow, this is kind of a follow-up of the previous chapter, because hung over Thrandy was too good to pass up.


	34. Chapter 34

"King Bard is here, Lord Thranduil. Shall I show him and his guests in?"

Tauriel hears a shift of movement from the throne as Thranduil perks up a bit.

"Guests?" he asks.

There is a smile in Feren's voice when the other elf responds.

"He brought his children, Prince Bain and the Princesses Sigrid and Tilda."

Tauriel tries to keep her own expression to a little smile as Thranduil lets out a sigh.

"Very well, show them in."

The two kings had agreed to meet in person to discuss alliances, and because Bard's kingdom was still somewhat under construction, the two had agreed to meet in the woodland realm, with an elven guard to lead the man's way.

The addition of his children is new information, however, and Tauriel feels herself smiling at the thought of seeing Sigrid and Bain and little Tilda again.

Well, not _seeing_ per se...

Her happiness dissipates somewhat at that thought, and Tauriel feels a little frown flicker across her face.

The children don't know she is blind. She hasn't seen them since the end of the battle.

Tauriel will have to explain again why she's been punished in such a manner - for betraying her people and her king. She'll have to ruin her image in the eyes of another group of friends.

"Why are you pouting, Tauriel?" Thranduil asks suddenly, startling her from her thoughts.

She is caught for a second between a quick defense of "I'm not pouting" and a casual deflection of "nothing, My Lord," and hesitates for a moment too long trying to pick which she's going to use.

"I've been assured that his children are quite well behaved. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

Oh, Tauriel knows that the archer's three children are little angels, but that's not exactly the issue, and so she simply nods to prevent further discussion.

Thranduil, however, is not fooled.

"Tauriel, whatever is the matter?"

Before she can pick the words to answer, the creak of the throne room doors being pushed open cuts her off.

"Lord Bard," Feren announces. "Accompanied by the Prince and Princesses of Dale."

"Your Majesty," a deep voice starts, and Tauriel takes a long second to place it as the bowman. "I am honored to be welcomed to your kingdom on this-"

He is cut off by a little gasp, however, and there is a sharp rustle of movement from the man's side.

"Lady Tauriel!" twin voices cry, and she only has a second to brace herself for impact before two decently-sized weights hit her at nearly a full run.

"Girls-" she hears Bard say in light exasperation, and Tauriel carefully wraps her arms around the two small forms that are clinging to her excitedly.

"Da, it's Lady Tauriel!" a young voice calls back, from about chest-height to her. Probably Tilda.

"Erm..." their father starts in mild confusion.

"You remember Lady Tauriel," the other one speaks up, and this one is definitely Sigrid. "Right, Da?"

The bowman shifts his weight a little nervously, and Tauriel can't help but tense as she hears Thranduil move as well.

"You all know each other?" her King asks.

Oh. Right. She'd never mentioned...

Tauriel swallows hard, scrambling for an explanation.

"We met. Briefly. In Laketown."

"She showed up with the blond elf and fought off a bunch of orcs that were trying to kill us!" Sigrid adds, a hint of awe in her voice.

"And she used elf magic to heal the young dwarf who got shot in the leg!" Tilda chimes in. "It was amazing!"

"And she helped get my sisters to safety when the dragon attacked," Bain finishes from back by his father's side, his voice getting a touch muffled as he turns. "We all owe her our lives."

"I see..."

Tauriel tries not to let her face flush at the dry humor in her king's tone, feeling his gaze on her as she busies herself with detangling the girls from around her.

Distraction. She needs a distraction.

"Come along, Tilda, Sigrid, Bain. Let's wait outside while your father is busy. I'll show you around the garden."

"Yes, good idea, Tauriel," Thranduil says, and she can hear the wicked smile in his tone. "Once we're done here we'll come find you four, and you and I can chat for a bit."

Tauriel nods absently, throwing her attention into trying to shoo the three children toward the gardens. This is made infinitely harder by the fact that she can't see them, and has to rely on the sound of their footsteps to guess at where they are, which one she is hearing, and how tall the child is. She does manage to land a hand on the crown of Tilda's head, and catches Bain's shoulder in the other on the second try, steering them in the right direction as they chatter up at her excitedly.

"She made quite the impression on them. The children adore her," she overhears Bard say to her king as she ushers the three through a side door into a short hallway. "Tilda wants to grow up to be an elf."

"Lady Tauriel," a voice asks at her shoulder before she can think too hard about Bard's words. This voice is more lowly pitched - Bain.

"Yes, child?"

"You never said you were King Thranduil's advisor."

"Not his advisor, per se," she explains, herding the three around a turn in the hall as best she can. "There are other elves far more old and wise than I who have that honor. I am merely his assistant."

"You still stand at his right side," the boy argues, a hint of awed respect in his tone that kills her inside because she is in no way deserving of such high regard.

Thankfully, she is saved from answering by another little turn that brings them to an open area in the courtyard that serves as Thranduil's garden.

Thankfully, she has learned her way about the palace far better than when she'd first come out here with Alassé and gotten herself lost. The change from taking visual directional cues to measuring distances in steps and the feel of the environment has taken a while to ingrain, but she is getting rather good at it.

As they move out into the gardens, she hears the children gasp in awe.

"Look at all the trees..." Sigrid says in wonder. "Everything here is so _green_!"

"Can we play Dodge the Orc?" Bain asks, turning in her grip to face her. "Please? We won't wander far!"

"Of course," Tauriel responds. "Just be careful."

"We will be!" the boy promises, slipping from her hold.

"Are you going to play with us?" Tilda asks.

Tauriel feels a little guilty as she shakes her head and hears the girl mutter "awwww" in disappointment.

"You three have fun," she says, waving them off before settling herself at the base of a small tree. "Be careful not to hurt the plants."

"We will!" Sigrid promises, and Tauriel smiles a little as she listens to the older two lay out the rules.

"I'll be the orc first," Bain says. "Tauriel's the prison. If I find you and tag you, you've got to wait by her. Last one caught is orc next round."

"And if we tap your head you have to kneel for the full five seconds before giving chase," Sigrid says. "Last time you kept getting up after four."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Fine. Full five seconds. I'll give you a count of twenty to hide."

"Thirty," Sigrid bargains. "New area."

"Fine, thirty then. Starting now! One, two, three, four-"

"Count slower!" Tilda squeals, and Tauriel smiles as Bain drags out the next few numbers overtop of the sound of the girls running away. Once they're out of earshot, however, he speeds up the count again.

"-twentyseventwentyeighttwentyniethirty! Here I come!"

There's a few seconds of suspenseful silence, broken only by Bain's clumsily sneaky footsteps, and then the boy shouts "gotcha!" and there is a squeal from Tilda, followed shortly by Sigrid's shout of "killed the orc" and Bain's frustrated and rushed count of five as he drops heavily to his knees in the underbrush.

Tauriel lets herself relax against the trunk of the tree with a smile, enjoying the sunshine as she listens to the children run around, crying out and laughing as they are nearly caught by one another.

Unsurprisingly, little Tilda is the first one out, and Tauriel looks up as she hears the girl trudging over with a muttered complaint about her brother cheating only a few short moments later.

"No luck this round?" she asks with a little smile.

"Bain's too fast, and he knows where I like to hide."

"Ah, that is unfortunate," Tauriel says pityingly, scooting over to make room for the girl and patting the ground at her side.

"Lady Tauriel?" Tilda asks, dropping to the grass with a little huff of breath.

"Yes, little one?"

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

And although she should have expected it, she is still taken completely by surprise at the girl's question.

"I..." she starts hesitantly, scrambling for a good way to explain her traitor's punishment without ruining the heroic image that the child has of her. "There was an...incident, after the battle. My eyes are this color now because I am blind."

The girl lets out a little gasp of horror.

"That's awful! You mean you can't even see me?"

Tauriel shakes her head, trying to ignore the ache in her throat. A moment later a pair of tiny arms wind around her as Tilda gives her a hug.

"That's a terrible thing to happen to someone so wonderful!"

Tauriel closes her eyes as a swell of emotions cinches her throat and makes her eyes water.

She's not wonderful. Not by a long shot. And she verymuch deserved her punishment.

But she can't seem to find her voice to correct the child.

Instead Tauriel reaches gently for the girl's head, stroking her fingers down through Tilda's lightly tangled hair.

"I'll be all right, little one," she finally manages. "Don't waste time worrying for me."

There is a yelp from Sigrid before Tilda can respond, and a second later the older two children are jogging back to their side, breathing hard.

"All right, Tilda, Sigrid's it," Bain pants. "You ready?"

The girl scrambles to her feet, and Tauriel listens to Bain and Tilda run off into the garden as Sigrid starts a count, giving them a good long while to hide before turning to go after them.

Tilda comes huffing back to Tauriel's side only a few minutes later, and the elf tries not to smile as the bowman's youngest child drops to the ground next to her once again.

"I hate when Sigrid's the orc," she mutters. "Bain doesn't even try to sneak up and tap her head so she won't catch me."

"Your sister usually tags your brother out so you can get away?" Tauriel asks, and the girl hums in agreement.

"Bain doesn't bother, he just runs. Sigrid usually tries to find him first, but I got unlucky."

Tauriel nods, listening for the other two children. They're both being quiet - Sigrid is a lot better at creeping around quietly than her brother - but Tauriel can still hear the soft sounds of them moving from further down the path.

Tilda shifts by her side, and Tauriel turns her attention back to the girl as Tilda clears her throat a little.

"Could you-...well..." the girl starts, hesitating for a second before taking a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh.

"Could I what?" Tauriel prompts gently.

"I suppose you can't braid my hair cause you can't see..." the girl mutters, her tone dejected.

And that simply isn't going to do.

"I managed to braid my own hair, didn't I?" Tauriel asks, a smile tugging at her lips. "I can't guarantee that it will be perfect, but I can certainly give it a try."

Tilda makes a little happy sound, and Tauriel startles a bit as the girl scrambles into her lap without warning. Chuckling, Tauriel runs her fingers over the girl's head, gathering her hair back and lining herself up as she starts to carefully separate out sections.

"Sigrid braids my hair fancy sometimes. Usually it's just a circlet braid like hers, but I like the elven braids better. They look so pretty," the girl chats absently as Tauriel begins to weave the strands together.

It's harder with Tilda's hair than her own. There are a few little knots that Tauriel has to tease out as she works, and the strands are more coarse than the silken hair that elves have. In addition, it feels like it has some shape to it, and Tauriel absently wonders if it's natural curl or merely from being crimped up in a bun all day as she finishes one braid and back-weaves the end to hold it in.

The second braid goes in much easier, and Tauriel is just finishing it up as Sigrid and Bain come back to them, out of breath.

"You in this round, Tilda?" Sigrid asks, and Tauriel nearly loses her hold on the braid as the girl shakes her head.

"I'm getting my hair braided!"

"Suit yourself," Bain says, and a second later he starts up a count as Sigrid scampers off.

Tauriel starts in on a third braid as Bain rushes through the numbers, and Tilda orders him to slow down, earning a groan from her brother and a chuckle from Tauriel. She finishes the third braid as Bain runs off to find his older sister, and starts in on a fourth braid, Tilda shifting impatiently in her lap.

Tauriel has decided to mimic her own hairstyle in the child's hair, as it's what she's most familiar with and least likely to mess up, and so once the smaller braids are woven she sets in on connecting them together in a larger weave down the back of the girl's head.

"Does it look good?" Tilda asks absently, and Tauriel has to resist a smile when she feels the girl stiffen in her hold a second later, stuttering an apology.

"It feels like I've done it properly," Tauriel answers, tying up the end with a long strand of grass that she plucks from nearby. "I'm afraid I don't have a mirror to let you see for yourself, however..."

"That's all right, Sigrid's heading our way, I'll ask her."

Sure enough, a moment later Tauriel can make out the soft footsteps of the bowman's children as they return to her side. Theirs are not the only set of footsteps that she hears, however, and Tauriel gets to her feet as Thranduil's voice says "ah, there you all are" from behind her.

"Da!" the children chorus almost in synch, and Tauriel bites back a grin as she hears the three rush eagerly to the bowman.

"Hello," Bard chuckles. "Did you have fun?"

"The garden is beautiful!" Sigrid breaths.

"So many trees!" Bain adds, his comment almost drowned out by Tilda asking how pretty her braids look.

"Your braids are lovely, dear. Did Lady Tauriel put them in for you?" Bard asks, grunting as he picks up his youngest. Her voice comes from the same height as his a second later.

"Yes, she did!"

"Did you thank her?"

Tauriel struggles to keep a straight face as Tilda makes a little sound in horror, realizing that she has not, and quickly calls out her thanks.

"You're very welcome, little one," Tauriel responds, hearing Thranduil shift a bit closer to her.

"Are you done with business, Da?" Sigrid asks, but surprisingly, it is Thranduil who answers.

"For the time being, we are finished. However, I would be most honored if you would all join me for dinner," Thranduil offers. "The journey back is long, and the forest can be treacherous as night. I would be more than happy to accommodate you until tomorrow, when the trip can be made fully in the daylight."

"We would be honored to join you," Bard replies, equally gracious, and Tauriel moves a pace closer to her king's side to make room as she hears another set of footsteps approach.

"I will have you shown to you to your rooms, so you may all freshen up before the meal," Thranduil says. "Feren, if you would?"

"Of course, My Lord."

Tauriel listens patiently as Feren leads the bowman and his children back inside, and can't help but tense a little as Thranduil slowly turns around to face her.

She focuses on brushing down her tunic for loose blades of grass.

"Met briefly in Laketown, was it?" her king says, a grin in his voice.

"Yes, My Lord."

"So am I to assume this is another of your escapades that I have yet to hear about?" Thranduil asks, amusement in his tone, and Tauriel ducks her head as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"It was nothing to tell of, my Lord. A little skirmish with orcs that continued into Dale. Legolas and I took care of it."

"And your dwarf was coincidentally staying with the bowman's family when you swept in to rescue them?"

Tauriel ducks her head lower to hide her flush.

Thranduil chuckles.

"And what of this miracle healing that they mentioned?"

"A stroke of luck, and Eru's blessing. Not that it did any good in the long run..." she adds, her voice going soft with sadness. Honestly, the whole thing seemed so dammed unfair. "I still don't understand why he would answer my plea to heal Kili only to let him be killed in battle barely a day later..."

Tauriel blinks in surprise as she feels Thranduil's finger curl beneath her chin, lifting her head up.

"Eru always does things for a reason," Thranduil soothes. "Perhaps the Valar answered your plea to save the dwarf so that he, in turn, could return the favor and save your life in battle."

"But why save me?" she whispers before she can think twice. It doesn't make sense. Kili was a prince. She...she is no one.

For a second there is silence, and then she feels Thranduil lean close.

"Perhaps it is because there are so many of us here that need you yet," he whispers against the shell of her ear, sweeping off back toward the palace before she can reply.

He doesn't slow down when she calls "My Lord?" after him in surprise, and Tauriel can only follow, a blush heating her cheeks and a little smile tugging at her lips.

Perhaps Eru had his reasons.

She will simply have to wait and see.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Apologies for the lack of updates, job searching it a _bitch._


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